A Bride For Booth
by LizD
Summary: Another take on what might happen after the year away. A bit angsty and dark - at first.
1. Chapter 1

**A Bride For Booth**

By LizD

Written May 2010 – July 2010

Posted in 13 Installments

_**AN: **__For the record, I don't like this premise. I wrote this as a preemptive strike for what MIGHT happen in the fall. If the show doesn't go this way (or any variation thereof), good for me (well us) and this little fanfix will be long forgotten. If they do, then I have been desensitized to the misery it will cause until they work it out (which I believe they will ... eventually). _

_**Fair Warning: **__This story will be a little dark and angsty for a while, not quite BOOTHUS, but not happy-go-lucky Booth either. Bad things happened in twelve months and people didn't behave as well as they should have: there was too much time to think, mistakes were made, blame assigned, egos were bruised, and while out of sight did not equal out of mind, absence played with the heart in odd ways - some good, so not so good. But all of it was or will be a learning experience. And yes, the characters will be shadows of their former selves because of it - for a while. Not a work in progress, just a posting in progress (it is finished and it does end well for Booth and Brennan). Please stick with it, or come back when it is completely posted._

_With trepidation in my heart for what is coming next season and much respect for the writers, creators, cast and crew of __**Bones**__. Here goes ... _

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**Chapter One**

**Mid May 2011**

"Intercept! GO! GO! GO!" **KA-BOOM**!

Booth sat straight up in his bunk. He was sweating. His heart was racing. His hands were shaking. There was a pain in his lower back that was sharp and deep. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and what was happening. He wiped his hands over his face. Fear was replaced with guilt. He lay back down and allowed his breathing to come to normal.

"BOOTH!" called someone from outside the barrack's door. "HEY BOOTH! It's your wake up. You're a civilian, bud. Get the hell out of here."

"Yeah, Yeah. I heard you." He called back not moving. "Give me a minute."

Booth sat up again. With a bit of effort he dropped one leg over the side and then the other. He pushed himself off the bunk. The burn marks went down his left side from his waist to his upper thigh. There were several shrapnel wounds that were nearly healed on his upper back, chest and arms. There was a more severe shrapnel wound that was healing, but not quite on his lower back. His movements were labored and slow as he pulled on his fatigues for the last time. His duffel was all packed. It would be his last morning on base and it was back to civilian life.

He made it to the gate. Gave his last salute and walked off base. There was a car waiting for him. He slipped into the passenger seat. He turned to the woman driving, took her hand and gave her a weak smile. "Let's go, huh babe?" She returned the smile, dropped the car into gear and drove away. Booth didn't look back.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan stood outside the doors of the Medico-Legal Lab at the Jeffersonian. She took a deep cleansing breath. It had been nearly a year since leaving her life, friends, family and Booth. The months away had been professionally challenging but not as rewarding as originally hoped. Personally, however, Brennan had been on an intellectual journey that was a roller coaster ride emotionally, both wonderful and devastating. In the space of twelve months Brennan had her eyes opened, her fear realized, her heart crushed and her basic beliefs shaken to the core. Brennan was forced to reevaluate the tenets she held and their affect on her life - more importantly the affect they had on preventing the modicum of happiness that she finally accepted as possible. She had to reexamine the choices she had made that brought her to where she was in life. Very quickly after leaving she had realized that the murder, death and suffering that had become her stock and trade over the previous years and the toll it was taking on her heart was only part of the reason she needed to leave. The other reason ... well, the events of the year away had resolved that issue in a way that was no longer in her control. While she couldn't change the past, she did choose to make different choices for her future. Her resolve was about to be tested now that she was back home.

She took one more breath before walking through the doors of the lab. All heads turned toward her as she stood there taking in the sight. They all seemed to know her. They seemed happy to see her. They seem relieved that she was back. Many murmured her name but no one approached. She recognized no one; but that was to be expected. She knew only a few by name before she left, most were just bodies in a lab coat that stayed out of her way. Brennan was about to change that - Resolution #1.

Dr. Saroyan came up behind her. "Dr. Brennan ... you have returned," she announced with a warm, familiar tone. With little or no reaction from Brennan she changed her statement into a question. "You have returned, yes?"

Brennan turned her focus to Cam. Brennan had rarely returned to any position from which she had departed after that length of time. The sense of homecoming, of familiarity, of unconditional acceptance was overwhelming. She pulled Cam into an almost too tightly held embrace. "Cam, Dr. Saroyan ... yes, it is good to be back home."

"We certainly have missed you." Cam was floored by her reaction. "Saved your office ... and to be honest ... I need your help on a case - cases to be more accurate."

"Yes, Yes. I am anxious to get back to work," she stated. "But I don't think the Jeffersonian will allow me to keep my office. They have allowed me back part time only."

"Allowed you? Part time?" Cam was confused. "So ... not back." When asked by the suits if there was a place for Brennan a few weeks before, Cam unequivocally said 'yes' and was confused as to why they had to ask. Management knew that she had only hired temps over the past twelve months in order to keep Brennan's position open - hoping that she would want to come back.

"Yes, the Jeffersonian is very adamant that I finish writing up the discoveries that we found in Maluku for publication and then there will be the obligatory lectures." Brennan was speaking very quickly. She was nervous - a very odd look for her. "I don't expect to be in Washington much after the publication - at least not the first year."

"Right," Cam had forgotten how much cash the Jeffersonian sunk into that project to keep the findings within their purview. They paid for Brennan's and four of the other scientists salaries for the year and processed much of the lab work. So of course they would be more interested in her findings than putting her back to work in the Medico-Legal Lab. But Cam was more impressed that Brennan was already talking about years and alluding to staying for years. It seemed hopeful. Still there was a sadness that shrouded Brennan that was undeniable.

"I assume the team you have assembled is sufficient?"

"They get the job done ... or attempt to, but not quite with the same amount of zeal or completion rate that was the standard a year ago. Angela and Hodgins are back in the swing, so things are getting somewhat back to normal."

'_Normal'_ Brennan liked that word. It was meaningless in light of everything else that had gone on; there was no hope for _normal; _that is if the definition of normal was how things were prior to the events of last year, prior to the Gravedigger case, prior to Sweets' book. "As long as the cases are solved," she said.

"We are running about 65 percent," Cam stated. There was something different about Brennan. Cam had noticed it in the correspondence they had about her return, but seeing her standing in front of her it was harder to ignore. The only word that Cam could come up with was humbled; humbled leaning toward melancholy. But maybe it was just jetlag.

"Maybe I can help to improve that record," Brennan said with a sincere tone of modesty. "Where will I be working?" Brennan asked.

"Part time or not Dr. Brennan; that is your space," she stated nodding to the office that had been dark since the day Brennan left. "Might be a bit dusty, we weren't expecting you until next week. That's why no balloons or cake." Cam smiled and turned abruptly and walked away. "I'll let you settle back in," she said over her shoulder.

"Dr. Saroyan," Brennan called after her. Cam turned on her heel arms folded waiting for one of Brennan's classically awkward comments. "I have missed you," she announced uncomfortably. "I would like to hear about your experiences this last year. About Michelle. Will you have lunch with me today?"

Cam was stunned. She was so stunned she almost didn't respond. "Certainly," was the only word she could muster.

Brennan smiled. "I just need to drop my bag; but I am ready to work. I don't need time to _settle_."

"Of course you don't," Cam said seeing that the Old Brennan was not gone.

Brennan went up to her old office and was nearly knocked over by the memories rushing over her. It was too much. She felt herself walling off and she had stop it. It was too early for either Jack or Angela to be there. She was truly on her own. "Keep moving," she told herself. Another deep breath. She dropped her bag, pulled on a lab coat and was back down in less than a minute. Brennan introduced herself to the guard and sincerely asked for his name. The guard knew her - had known her for years. It was the first time she had spoken to him. He let her up on the platform as she didn't have her own card yet. She walked around to each of the techs working introducing herself, asking their names and their specialties. Each was a brief interview but Brennan really appeared to be listening and storing the information. The techs were a little put off, they knew her as being unapproachable, but so brilliant that it was excused. They discussed what they were working on. She offered comments respectfully and tactfully – of course they were dead on target and the tech was typically embarrassed that he or she had missed what was so clear to Brennan.

Cam watched in amazement. She had known that things would change, that the fallout would surely affect them all. Clearly it affected Brennan, but Cam never guessed that it would have softened her. Cam hadn't heard from Booth in nine months, but she knew what happened – the official story. If it weren't for everything else, she would have said that the time away was good for Brennan. She knew better than to believe that.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Booth entered the Hoover building in jeans and a t-shirt. He was no longer Army Issue and he didn't need to be FBI just yet. Hacker had contacted him almost a month prior. The offer was extended via email, but Booth suggested that they speak in person when he was back in Washington. A meeting was set and Booth was there to keep that appointment.

"Looking well, Booth."

"Director," Booth said extending his hand to his old boss.

"When did you get back?"

"I have been back in the states about a week, was finally discharged yesterday."

Hacker noticed right away that Booth was not the same cocky agent that left twelve months prior. "Recovering well -?"

"Yes," Booth cut him off. "All good. So, you called this meeting?"

"Do you want a job?" Hacker asked. "Or has the Army made you a better offer?"

"They did, but I declined. I am anxious to get back to work."

"Are you?" Hacker wasn't sure. "Is the team back at the Jeffersonian, 'cause I have to tell you we have a few unsolved cases back logged."

"No, sir," Booth snapped again. "I mean, I don't know about the Jeffersonian, but I would prefer not to work major crimes, was thinking counterintelligence or counterterrorism."

"Really?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, that is a surprise." Both those divisions were mainly for analysts and were considered eighty percent desk jobs. "I am sure either one of those departments would be lucky to have you."

"Thank you, sir."

"I will make a few calls, set up a few meetings. I'll let you know."

"Thank you, sir." Booth still had some Army around the edges.

"May I ask way?"

"Saw some things over there that I don't ever want to see on American soil. Anything I can do to prevent that, I want to do."

"I see," Hacker didn't believe him. "Well the hours are better – should have your nights and weekends to yourself."

"Yes, sir." Booth thanked him again and left quickly. On his way out he ran into Ms. Julian.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," she bellowed across the hallway scanning him up and down.

"Caroline." Booth was hoping to escape unseen.

"Nice to see that you are in one piece - more or less," she drawled. He wasn't about to correct her and she wasn't about to push. "So you and your lady scientist getting the band back together? I have a stack of files on my desk that I would just love to clear. They have your names written all over them. Agent Perotta is a nice kid, but she is no closer."

"No," he said. "I mean, I don't know about the people at the Jeffersonian. I am sure Cam can tell you better. I am not going back to major crimes."

She frowned. Booth was not back, and the man that stood before her was a shell of his former self. "Seen too much of death, eh chérie?"

"Enough for a lifetime," he said solemnly.

"But you will be back here in some capacity ... not gonna let your hair grow and go all hippy on us, are you?"

"Looking into counterterrorism, counterintelligence."

"Yeah, cause there is never any death or destruction there," she commented sarcastically.

"I think I can help."

"I'm sure you can, chérie. I am sure you can."

"I need to get going," he told her. "It was nice seeing you again, Caroline."

"We haven't seen the last of each other, Seeley Booth." Caroline strode off. Booth look relieved. Two down. That was enough for one day. He needed to get out of there before Sweets got wind that he was in the building.

"Just keep moving," he told himself.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Booth interviewed with the directors of the Counterterrorism and Counterintelligence units. His first choice was Counterterrorism and he was made an offer. He knew there would be a lot of sifting through data, sitting on wire taps and drudgework, but he also knew that the threat of terrorist activity on U.S. soil was a very real. He knew that the FBI and other agencies were making headway and had already prevented many attacks. He wanted to be part of that.

He was expected to work with a young kid fresh from Quantico who he had been working Counterterrorism for the past eighteen months even through his training. Booth didn't have a feel for him yet. He seemed bright and dedicated – a bit like Zach Addy only cooler. Booth could see liking him. Could see taking him under his wing and teaching him a few things about patience, the big picture and seeing the meaning in patterns in the chaos. That might come in time. Until then Booth remained very quiet and spoke only when absolutely necessary and never about anything personal. This kid was not his partner; would never be his partner. Booth had a partner.

The upside to Counterterrorism was that the job requirements were for regular hours - unless of course something was going down, but that didn't happen as often as it did in major crimes. It was good to be back at work. It was good to feel proactive again. Not wearing a uniform made it easier to look in the mirror. To get up every day and not be surrounded by people who knew what he had done was easier. It helped that he was back in Washington. The area was familiar and felt safe – anonymously safe. He was home at night and on the weekends; trying to get into a routine – stable meal times, stable physical therapy times, stable bed times. If only he could sleep; sleep without dreaming. He made no attempt to contact anyone from before other than Parker. It would throw off the routine. Even with Rebecca he was distant and reserved; he didn't want to open an opportunity for her to ask him questions. He was going through the motions and doing what he felt was the right way to move on. The nights were the hardest.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Hey, Sweetie." Angela was standing in Brennan's doorway. "I have the facial reconstruction on Jane Doe 658."

It all seemed very familiar and safe to Brennan if a little odd. There was a hole without Booth that was accentuated whenever Perotta showed up. But they were working through it. Times change. "Thanks Ange." She took the drawing from her. "She is beautiful," Brennan said sadly. "I'll get this over to Agent Perotta."

"You doing OK?"

Brennan smiled slightly. "I am."

"Must be strange to be back." Angela and Hodgins got back from France six weeks before, and were back to work almost immediately. They missed the work. They knew it wouldn't be the same, but when it came right down to it - they missed the work. If Brennan and Booth were not in the center, they could still be a part of something. Cam could provide enough center to hold them. Cam was delighted to have them back.

"Oddly familiar," Brennan agreed. "But it has only been a week." The friends had been in constant contact the entire time they were away. Angela helped her through some very dark times. Brennan was intimately aware of what happened with Booth but didn't completely confide in Angela the details. She had given the broad strokes. Of course Angela knew everything else, everything that related to Brennan.

"And Booth?" Angela paused before she finished her question. "Is he back?"

"No." She looked away. "I mean I don't know, but I don't expect him back."

"Sweetie -"

"Angela, please don't push this agenda." This was a conversation that Brennan and Angela had had often. "Booth has made a very good decision for himself. I want him to be happy."

"And you honestly think he can be happy with Nurse Betty?"

"Her name is Elizabeth Darrow, and yes I believe she can help him to find some peace and joy in his life. She saw him through a very difficult time and they formed a very strong bond – obviously."

"That is Florence Nightingale syndrome, sweetie - not love."

"You don't know that, Angela."

"Look, Booth was sick. She was NyQuil. Not a cure, just something to get him through the night." Angela saw Brennan shutter and realized how that image bothered Brennan. "Sorry sweetie. But now that he is better, he doesn't need the NyQuil anymore."

Brennan shook her head. "I don't know what that means."

"I do. I know that he loved you and that you loved him and that love was built on trust, respect and a lot water under the bridge."

Brennan's face washed with sadness. "I wasn't ready for it, Angela."

"You are now." Brennan willed her strength to sustain her one more time through this discussion with Angela. "Does he know that?"

"Isn't your definition of love selflessly putting the other person before you? Putting the other person's health and happiness before your own?"

"Sure, if this was some tragic romance novel or a bad Italian Opera, but this is real life."

"Yes, it is. Booth has made a _**real life**_ choice and I support that."

"Booth chose not to be alone, that is not the same as picking her over you. Did he even know you were an option?"

"Please, can we stop talking about this?"

Angela again knew she wasn't getting anywhere. "Sure, sweetie."

"We have work to do."

"Yeah ... yeah, sure." For the first time Angela lost her faith that Booth and Brennan would find their way to each other. Maybe they never were meant to be together. Maybe their story was fated to be a tragic romance novel. Ships destined to continually pass each other in the night. It made her sad. Sad for her friend. Sad for Booth - though with _**Booth's Choice**_ she has very little sympathy for him at that time.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Booth passed the little bookstore on the way to the restaurant. There was a display in the window of summer reading suggestions. In the center of the mystery section were Brennan's books. Her name across the cover caught his eye. He ducked into the store, found her books on a table. He picked one up and flipped to the dedication page.

_**This book is dedicated to my partner and friend,**_

_**Special Agent Seeley Booth**_

"It's an oldie but a goodie," said the geeky looking kid with a name tag that read 'Spike.' "Not her best, but still really good." Booth nodded to the kid. "We are trying to get her to come in for a book signing, but she is out of the country or something - who knows. Hope she is working on the next one." The kid kept chattering about Brennan's books. He was clearly a fan. "Love how she always puts the word **Bone** or **Bones** in the title. Heard that it was a nickname for her. She is beautiful." The kid admired her picture on the back. Booth turned the book over too. He had helped her pick that one out. It didn't do her justice - and didn't come close to the image that he had in his mind, the last thing he saw before he fell asleep on the rare occasions that he actually slept. The memory was too much for him. He replaced the book and quickly left.

He made his way through the busy dining room / bar. He didn't like crowded places anymore particularly not where there was a focus on drinking. Loud unruly people made him anxious. He had requested that they meet at some place quiet, but Elizabeth had chosen a pub near her work in Georgetown. They were still living in the hotel, so it was either eat out, order room service or go without food altogether (that would have been Booth's preference). He couldn't fault her, she didn't know the area. Neither did he for that matter. She stood up to move to the next seat when he got to the table – he liked his back to the wall. He leaned in and kissed her on the side of the mouth. "Hey, babe."

"Is this OK?" she asked sincerely. Elizabeth was a lovely looking woman – blonde with sparkling green eyes. She was as tall as Booth and perfectly toned. She was a physical therapist so she needed her strength.

"Fine," he lied.

"The girls at work say this place has the best hamburgers in town."

Booth hadn't eaten red meat in six months. "Great," he said scanning the menu. "Think I will just go with a salad. I had a big lunch."

"Was your day OK?"

"Fine," he lied again. "Did you go over and take a look at that apartment?"

"I did. It's great, great view."

"Good, I will put a deposit down on it tomorrow. We can move in this weekend." Someone tipped over a bar stool. There was a loud crash and many girls screeching in laughter. Booth stood immediately and reached for a weapon that was not there. It took him a moment to assess that the situation was not dangerous.

"We don't have to stay, Seeley," she said.

"No, No. It's fine; we can stay." He sat back down. "Old habit." He smiled weakly at her. "So tell me about your day." He turned his attention to her blocking out the rest – when he put his mind to it, it was easy to do. It was what he had to do.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan sat in front of a blank monitor. She had decided to write her last Kathy Reichs novel.

_**Dr. Kathy Reichs stood over the motionless body of her partner, her friend, her lover, Agent Andy Lister. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be. If he were, it was her fault and that was unacceptable. **_


	2. Chapter 2

A Bride for Booth

By LizD

Written May 2010 – July 2010

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**Chapter 2**

**May 20, 2011 – Exactly a year after the parting**

Brennan was glad to be back. There was a sense of urgency and accomplishment in working a homicide case that required more focus outside her head. She needed that now. She needed to be busy and useful.

She looked down at the calendar in her book. The day was circled in red. It was exactly one year since the parting at the airport. There was no reason to meet at the reflecting pool. Booth wouldn't be there. There was nothing left for them to say. They shouldn't have attempted the year apart.

Of course it was never intended to be a year without any contact at all. There was email, sat phones and if they were really lucky, maybe a weekend off here or there where they could meet in Greece or Turkey or somewhere. Booth and Brennan did not make the long distance transition well. Booth couldn't _**read**_ inflection in an email and Brennan could _**see**_ his smiling eyes on the sat phone which had more interference than a 1950s TV set. They tried to stay connected, at first. Lots of emails (mostly from Brennan's side) but they became fewer and farther between as time went on and he didn't respond. They used the satellite phone often, but without a common interest (other than the unspoken, unacknowledged, unaccepted obvious interest) they ran short of things to say (read: dead air). Then about six to seven months into the tour her greatest fear was realized: Booth was injured very badly. She was the emergency contact and flew to his side immediately. The spinal injury was the most severe, but there were broken bones and burns as well. The doctor's didn't know if he would ever walk again. Brennan wouldn't accept that. Booth did. She had never seen him so broken, defeated and angry. He wouldn't talk about the incident, but she understood that six of the men he was responsible for were killed. She was also given the impression that his actions saved hundreds of lives; she didn't get that from Booth.

She was there for six days before she finally accepted Booth's dismissal. He told her that he didn't want her there. He told her that she should go back to Maluku and be a scientist. Brennan refused to go at first, but eventually had to respect his wishes. She didn't leave until she was sure he would get the proper medical care and physical therapy. It was then she met Elizabeth Darrow, a physical therapist working at the VA. Elizabeth had told Brennan that she had worked with many injured soldiers. Some came back after an injury so severe, some didn't, some got their bodies back but their minds never made it back all the way. She promised to do what she could. Brennan liked her. Elizabeth was dedicated, passionate about the work, and she was undeniably beautiful. That would motivate Booth - he never let a pretty girl down. When Booth called six weeks later to announce that he was walking again Brennan wasn't surprised. She wasn't surprised a month after that when Booth called her and told her that he was planning on asking Elizabeth to marry him.

~!~

_**"I am happy for you, Booth," she said with all due honesty.**_

_**"Nothing has happened yet," he told her. "But I think there is a future for us."**_

_**Brennan struggled to keep her voice even and calm. "I liked her very much."**_

_**"I forgot that you met her; hell, you met her before I did."**_

_**"Yes." There was a stiff silence as both were trying to find the right words to say. **_

_**"She will probably turn me down."**_

_**Brennan felt the tears rolling down her face. "I think she is smarter than that." One part of her was screaming out to tell him to wait. To tell him that she loved him and was ready to push their relationship toward something more personal, but the logical side of her mind told her not to. It told her that if Booth had found someone to love then she should allow him that. If he had gone so far as to contemplate marriage then he truly had moved on. Brennan - regardless of her feelings for him - couldn't give him the kind life he was looking for, the kind of life he would have with Elizabeth even with the changes in her attitude. Trying to stop that would just be selfish. "I hope you will be very happy," she repeated.**_

_**"Yeah," he said sadly. "You too, Temperance." The cold and distance were thick in his voice. That was harder to take than the message. **_

~!~

Brennan checked her watch. She wasn't sure why, but she wanted to keep that appointment at the reflecting pool. She didn't expect Booth to be there. She wasn't even sure if he was back in Washington or if he was ever coming back. There had been a few emails after that phone call but not many. The only one that really mattered was the one that told her that Elizabeth had accepted his proposal. They didn't promise to be friends or discuss a working partnership. They both knew that there was no place for the other in their lives any more. They needed to move on. Still she wanted to keep the appointment if only to put closure on her time with Booth, out of respect for the impact he had on her life.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Booth was writing a check for the deposit on the apartment he rented for Elizabeth - and himself. He checked his watch for the date: May 20. One year later. Exactly one year later. He had gone to save lives but he had seen nothing but death. Kids, most not older than twenty, were getting killed indiscriminately. He was directly responsible for losing six men - six boys - under his command. He wasn't supposed to have a 'command.' He was there to provide training. How and why he survived was a miracle; he shouldn't have. He shouldn't be alive. He shouldn't be walking and talking. He shouldn't be home, working in his old job, getting married, planning a future and living a life that those boys were denied. It was wrong. The wrongness of it haunted him every day. It was getting worse since he had been back. Elizabeth - who had been a great distraction before - was now a symbol of all that was wrong. It wasn't her fault. She had been a saint and a godsend to him. She was very patient and understanding. She was truly amazing. A more sensitive, giving, loving woman he could never hope to find. He hoped that he could deserve her. He worked very hard to make her happy and to keep moving forward. He tried not to let her see his shift in attitude. He tried to protect her from the darkness that was over taking him. He tried to be the man he needed to be for her. So he forced himself to remain numb, but it was getting harder every day.

"Has it really only been 365 days?" he asked himself. It felt like a lifetime – rather another lifetime.

Without thinking he drove to the mall and to the reflecting pool. He wasn't specifically thinking about Brennan, but she was never far from his thoughts - subconsciously. At first her emails were daily. They weren't like the letters from home that other soldiers got full of declarations of love and loss. They weren't full of reminiscences of the times they shared or anticipations for the next time they could be together. They were more like journal entries in her personal log of her findings in Maluku. Most of it was either over his head, or just not what he wanted to read. He scanned them all looking for something - he didn't know what. Eventually he stopped reading them all together. He responded sporadically never with anything personal; he couldn't write about his work. He tried to believe that he was focusing on the job and too busy, but the truth was he was angry, hurt and alone. The loneliness was overpowering in those first months. The last time he was in a war zone was before Parker was born, before Brennan. He had little to lose then, this time he couldn't help but feel that he had already lost everything. Rebecca had married and Parker was happy with his new 'dad' and his new family. And Brennan ... well, she was never an option anyway. In a year she would have complete moved on – compartmentalized their partnership and back to her old ways. There was nothing left for him back home even if he were to get back there. There was only death and destruction in front of him. Still, her daily emails - if only to see her name in his inbox - were enough to keep him from despairing altogether.

After he was injured all communications were cut off with everyone except Parker - his choice. He did contact Brennan when he decided to ask Elizabeth to marry him. He had thought about the phone call a lot before he made it. He wasn't sure if it was out of respect, spite or to give her one more chance to speak up. He wished he could have seen her face. Brennan words rarely betrayed her true feelings. If he had he might have reconsidered his plan with Elizabeth. But as it was, he had to move on.

Move on! What a joke. Even after the year he had, Brennan's voice was still the voice in his head. It was comforting but a little distracting. He didn't think of it as a betrayal to Elizabeth. She knew all about Brennan - well as much at Booth would tell; she probably guessed the rest; though Elizabeth would never truly understand. Booth probably wouldn't either. And Brennan, not a chance.

If he were pressed he would have to say that he went to the mall to put a button on the past year. So much had changed. So much was still changing. There would be fallout from those 365 days for years to come. Going to the reflecting pool just seemed like the right thing to do. He hadn't been since he got back. It had been a place that he had loved once. Maybe he would find his center again.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Brennan had been sitting at the reflecting pool for more than two hours. She wasn't waiting. She wasn't looking around at the people. She wasn't really paying attention to anything external. She was doing what was intended when the park was built and named. She was reflecting; reflecting on her life, her experiences, her choices, her friends, her family, her past, her present and her immediate future. One thing that struck her was how much was in her control and how much wasn't. A colleague at the expedition had commented that he had never met anyone so appropriately named.

_**Temperance**_: from the Latin _temperantia_ meaning self-control, restraint, prudence.

Why had her parents burdened her with that moniker? They had originally named her Joy. Joy was nearly the opposite of Temperance. Had they changed her name to fit her nature, or had her nature changed with the name -

"Temperance?" came a familiar voice from behind her.

She turned still not expecting to see him but there he was; standing upright and tall: Seeley Booth. She stood up to greet him. He was thinner. He was darker mostly due to the tan, but there was darkness in his eyes that she had never seen before. The last time she actually saw him he was laid out in a hospital bed with a broken ulna, clavicle, burns over twenty percent of his body and unable to use his lower limbs. Thankfully the paralysis was not permanent, but those were just the physical injuries she could see. Gone were any of the symbols of his independence; no cocky belt buckle, no funky tie, and no garish socks. He was in uniform albeit FBI issue. He had been normalized again.

"Booth," she said softly.

"I didn't expect you to be here." His tone was even and flat giving no indication what he was feeling at seeing her. She looked familiar yet different. Her hair was different. Her clothes were different. She held her body differently – taller, more self-assured. Her eyes – they didn't hold him at bay as they always had - in fact they drew him in. He instinctively stepped forward and pulled her into a steady embrace. She was safe and home.

Brennan returned the embrace. Her body involuntarily released the tension she had been holding since she last saw him. She had grown so accustomed to it. It unnerved her to feel it go. It made her feel alone, naked, exposed. It was the last thing she was holding onto of him – the fear for his life, the fear that he would never make it back. She could let it go - he was safe and home.

They held each other that way for a long minute. Neither spoke, they just let their hearts re-sync after the long separation. Finally Booth was the one to let go and step back.

"It's good to see you." He didn't use his old nickname for her. In fact he didn't think of her as 'Bones' any more. He didn't have a name for her at all – she was just a fact; a part of his past - a part of him.

"And you," she concurred. He paused too long for her tastes. She needed to fill the silence. "You are back in Washington? Back at the FBI?"

"Working Counterterrorism," he said flatly giving her no invitation to inquire why. "I expected that you would be on the road lecturing about your findings." He actually had no expectations of the kind. In fact he hadn't considered where she would be or what she would be doing.

"We will finish the paper by the end of June. It will publish in September or October. I expect that the invitations to speak will be extended after that." Again a long pause that needed to be filled, "Is Elizabeth with you?" She thought about looking past him, but she couldn't break eye contact.

"She is in Washington, but not here." He paused thinking that was enough of an explanation, but it wasn't. He looked past her to the Lincoln Memorial. "She is working at a clinic in Georgetown. We have taken an apartment there. Moving in this weekend." He had no idea why she needed to know any of that or why he had to tell her, but it filled the distance between them with a barrier that needed to be placed.

"And the wedding?" she asked to show that he shouldn't avoid the topic of his bride-to-be.

"Right now we are thinking a small ceremony in October, but …" He was not about to tell her the number of times the date for the wedding had already been pushed back. It wasn't that he was conflicted about marrying; Elizabeth was the one who set and reset the dates.

Brennan didn't want to sound too interested but was hard pressed to find another topic. She struggled to find something to say. "Parker is …?"

"Very well. He asked about you." He let the statement drop. She smiled wondering if that were true and what half truth he would have told his son about her. "Rebecca got married so he has a real family now too."

It made Brennan sad to think that Booth thought that some other man could give Parker the 'real family' that he couldn't give him. "So Counterterrorism -?"

"Important. Vital. Less field work. Regular hours."

Brennan knew that was directed at her. They wouldn't be working together even cursorily. "You appear to have healed well – physically." It wasn't true. She could tell when she hugged him that he was still feeling pain and it was an effort to stay standing upright and the scarring from the burns would never go away.

"I won't be playing basketball any time soon, but I'm ambulatory."

"Ambulatory?" It was an odd word for him to use.

"More than many guys get," he said trying to hide his guilt. They were heading into the unsafe topics. It was either go down that road or retreat to safer ground. "Angela and Hodgins?" Safer ground it was.

"They have been back for a few weeks – maybe a month or more. They are talking about getting pregnant."

"Nice. Good for them. Cam?"

"She is fine. Unfortunately much of the work fell on her shoulders and she had a difficult time replacing us. "

"You are irreplaceable," he said coolly.

Brennan felt an icy shiver go down her spine. He used to make comments like that before, but they felt like they were from the heart. That time it felt cold - almost insulting. "We should get together for a social occasion. I am sure that everyone would be happy to see you and would like to meet Elizabeth."

"Sure. Sure. Soon." He had no intention of making that date. It wasn't that he didn't want to see them; he didn't want to be seen.

She studied him for a moment and decided that she had to say something. "Booth, I am sorry -."

He cut her off. "Temperance – please don't. There is nothing to apologize for. It is what it is." He had no idea what she was about to apologize for but it was unnecessary and wouldn't change anything.

She nodded. There were too many things to apologize for. She was sorry that there was so much distance between them. She was sorry that he was dealing with so much apparently on his own. He was a good man and didn't need this blackness hanging over him. Mostly she was sorry that their paths had diverged 365 days prior and there was no expectation that they would ever converge again.

"I should go," she said slowly. He nodded. She should probably make up some excuse, but she didn't want to leave him with a lie. She reached out and took his hand. There was nothing to say. There was nothing for him to hear. She looked deeply into his dark eyes. Was he still in there or was he gone forever? She pressed his hand and he pressed back. She chose to believe he was still there. That he knew she was ultimately his partner in life. That she would kill for him, she would die for him and she walk away if that was what he needed. She pressed his hand again and let go. This time, she wouldn't look back.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Seeing Brennan again was bound to happen sooner or later. He hadn't feared it but he hadn't sought it out either. He could still feel her hand in his. He could see smell her. Her face - as different as it was - was still the image he carried with him daily. Her voice was the same as the one in his head. Of all the things he lost in that year, losing Brennan was the deepest cut. When he allowed himself to dwell on her and the loss, he chided himself with _**one can't lose what one never had**_. Maybe someday he would be able to grieve that loss. As it was he was vacillating between denial/isolation and anger.

Booth remained at the reflecting pool for some time trying to remember; trying to feel. He remembered thinking that he loved that place, the country but he didn't feel it anymore. He felt empty inside. His life had been death and destruction, pain and anguish in one form or another. From his abusive father, to the first Gulf War, to his time in major crimes to this second 'training' mission in Afghanistan; how many men had he killed? How many died because he was unable to save them, protect them? He had dedicated his life to the service of his country in one way or other. He had given his heart and soul to every mission, every task, every responsibility. He was spent. Going back to work at the FBI was probably not a good idea, but he had to work. Marrying Elizabeth, losing himself in her was unfair to her too, but making her happy, making a life with her was something proactive he could do. He had to keep moving, waiting for the sun to come up, waiting for his faith to be restored. He had to keep moving. He couldn't look back, he couldn't remember - he couldn't reflect. He hated that place. He needed to leave, leave and never come back.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_**Kathy left the hospital before dawn. He wasn't dead, her partner, but he wasn't out of the woods. She was going to find the man responsible. The man - the killer, the serial killer who had plagued them for nearly six years - she would find him - Jackson Salt. She would find him and kill him for what he had done to her partner. Homicidal was a new color for her; she didn't wear it well, but she was determined, motivated and impassioned enough to see it through to the end even if it killed her. **_


	3. Chapter 3

A Bride for Booth

By LizD

Written May 2010 - July 2010

Chapter 3

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**July 4th Weekend**

Elizabeth sat on the mall with her fiancée watching the fireworks. She could tell he was not enjoying them, but worse than that they were affecting him. It was his idea to go, to be a normal couple doing normal things. He was always trying too hard to be normal. They made a nice picnic, they got ice cream from the vendor, they watched kids play Frisbee. He held her hand, stole chaste kisses and stayed present and engaged in the moment. It was all wholesome, good, very Norman Rockwell. But it was a lie, a ruse, an act - an act that was getting harder to ignore.

Elizabeth agreed to move back to Washington because she thought being back would help Seeley, but he was only getting worse. He was pretty tight lipped during his recovery about the incident that had caused his injuries, about what he was feeling, about his past. He was very open to talking about their future and her - anything to do with Elizabeth (past, present and future) was an open topic. Elizabeth found it very refreshing - a man who would listen, really listen to her hopes, dreams and fears. Those first months were incredible; fun, easy, nice, just really, really nice. Of course she wasn't expecting a marriage proposal. She had thought she had found a friend that was all. The idea of marriage never occurred to her. It was out of the question. She still considered herself married. She almost said no because of it, but she had been alone for so long and Seeley was so unlike any other man she had ever known.

Elizabeth's first husband had died in 2003 during the first days of the war. They were high school sweethearts. They were in love, in sync and completely happy every day of their lives together. William, her husband, was a marine. He came from a family of marines. They were waiting to start their family while she was in school and getting her physical therapy degree and training. She completed that in early 2001. The plan was that he was going to retire from the marines and go back to school, she would establish a physical therapy practice and they would start a family in a year. But then 9/11 happened. Everything was put on hold.

She did her part for the war effort and had gone to work with veterans and the service men and women even the before the war started. After her husband was killed, she was devastated. The only thing that kept her going was the work that she was doing. She put everything she had into it. She had helped countless soldiers get back as much as they could and more than they expected after they were wounded. Many of them – men and women alike – confused her compassionate, dedicated, nurturing method for love. She never did. Not until Sergeant Major Seeley Booth became more than a patient.

She had worked with Seeley for his six weeks of recovery three times a day. He was never inappropriate and she didn't believe that he was the type to confuse his feelings. The first time they met outside the physical therapy setting was by accident. He was an excellent listener. The subsequent meetings became more frequent, but she didn't view it as going anywhere. Then he asked her to marry him. They hadn't even kissed at that time. She thought it was oddly romantic, but his request was sincere. She agreed.

He had nearly three months left on his tour and would go back to finish. It gave her time to get used to the idea of getting married. She discovered that he was not as good a communicator via email or phone. As they planned what was next, she agreed to Washington even though San Diego was her home. He had a son and that trumped her family and in-laws.

After nearly two months at home she could tell that he wasn't trying to get better, he was trying to forget - forget something that was unforgettable. On Independence day she wondered if she were the problem. She wondered if she had been what was blocking him from dealing with what he needed to. Maybe she wanted him stuck. Maybe if he looked back or got better he wouldn't need her any more. He was using her to forget. She was his drug, his medicine, his prescription to dull the pain. That was no way to live a life, get married, build a future. Moreover, she deserved better. She would have to risk losing him in order to keep him. But who could she turn to for help?

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan stood back from the group and watched. Angela and Hodgins were having a party at their house for the holiday. It was a small gathering of about two hundred and fifty - mostly Angela's friends but the whole crew from the Jeffersonian were in attendance as well.

"Hey Tempe," called Jack. He still hadn't gotten used to calling her by her first name. "There is a balloon toss going on in the south lawn, we need another pair of hands." Of course the balloons were not filled with water, they will filled with a liquid that would stain the skin bright purple for days - the same kind banks use to mark stolen money. Hodgins little joke.

"Sure," she said with very little interest. She had really tried to join in, to not refuse invitations and to actually be interested in the people around her. She had seen the advantages when she was in Indonesia but it still wasn't something she was comfortable with.

"Dr. Brennan," Sweets said. He had come out of the house behind her. She didn't know he was coming. "Dr. Brennan, it's good to see you." They hadn't spoken since she had been back. Daisy Wick had gotten bit by something in the jungle and had to leave three months into the expedition. She didn't come back. Brennan had heard that she and Sweets never got back together. Daisy accepted a position in New York at the Natural History Museum.

"Dr. Sweets," Brennan turned to him. "It is also nice to see you."

Sweets of course had been made aware of all that had happened, with Booth anyway. Little was known about what _**happened**_ to Brennan, but he had also heard that she had changed. He had no idea how to start a conversation with her. He knew his book had had an impact on the partnership and he worried that it was the defining event that had propelled them to walk away from each other. Brennan had never said anything to him about what happened after they had told him about their first case together, but he could guess by what Booth had said. "I gambled and lost. Thanks a lot Sweets. What I get for listening to a twelve-year-old."

Since Sweets was clearly dumbfounded, Brennan started. "There is a balloon toss on the south lawn."

"Would you like to be my partner?" Sweets asked.

"Sure," she said evenly.

"How have you been?" he asked as they walked toward the event.

"Fine, Fine ... working very diligently."

"Your paper?"

"Should be complete in the next week or so, and I am back to work at the Jeffersonian."

"I hear Booth is back at the FBI, but I haven't seen him."

Brennan's jaw clenched. She would never again talk to Sweets about Booth or anything to do with the state of their relationship. "I understand Daisy took a position in New York, do you two still communicate?"

Sweets got the message quickly. He was not her therapist, and he had no right to ask such personal questions. Daisy and Sweets were not in contact. She had left him twice. Sweets had been alone since then. It was a very sore subject. "Message received, Dr. Brennan."

"I don't know what that means," she said automatically but she knew.

They took their positions with the rest of the people for the balloon toss. Brennan noticed that Jack seemed a little too amused at the prospect of this game and Angela seemed annoyed by his amusement. On the third toss, Brennan tossed just a little too high. Sweets would have said that it was no accident. He put his hands up in front of his face to catch the balloon and it spattered all over him. His hands, his chest and his face were all splattered with purple dye. His was the first to break. Everyone holding a balloon saw the mess and tossed it hard at their partner. Lots of laughing and screaming. Sweets was not entirely amused. Brennan smiled and nodded. She was satisfied with the result. Parties could be cathartic she concluded.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Booth lay awake with Elizabeth sleeping next to him. It was a familiar scene and one that was getting harder to play. His mind reeled. He thought about the boys in his unit. The ones he was commanding. The ones he sent to their deaths.

Kenny "Buck" Buchman - 20, New Jersey, plumber's apprentice in the family business, unmarried but loved his women.

Harold "Spider" Torrance - 19, Los Angeles, two younger sisters that he sent all his money home to, parents were dead. They called him spider cause he moved so fast.

Joe "Java Joe" Coffee - 19, Michigan, hated coffee, wife with baby number one on the way.

Anthony "T-Man" Jefferson - 22, Oregon, had five older brother all deceased. Two in the first Gulf War, the other three in Iraq.

Josh "Sticks" Drummond - 23, Washington, twin sons and a wife voted "hottest girl back home".

Jorge Ortega - 21, Miami, musician and practical joker. Only his mom at home.

Good guys, the lot of them: smart, dedicated, funny and tight. Really, really tight. They were a cohesive group when Booth was assigned to them. They accepted Booth warily at first, but after a week, he was their natural leader. They had seen a lot of action together and Booth was making them better. They weren't supposed to be there that day. They actually had the day off - as much as you can have a day off in a war zone. They were headed out to their next destination. Booth saw the truck first. The intent of the insurgent was clear. There were hundreds of civilians and service men in the target building. The driver was taken out with one shot, but the truck kept coming. They had to stop him by any means necessary.

"Intercept," Booth yelled. "GO! GO! GO!" **KA-BOOM**!

Booth was standing before he knew it. Heart was racing, sweat pouring down into his eyes. The pain in his back was debilitating.

"Babe," Elizabeth sat up in bed. "Babe, are you alright?"

"Fine," he tried to recover. "Fine, just can't sleep. I'll get out of here so I don't keep you up."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about, hon." He pulled on his shorts. "Will just read for a while in the living room."

"If you are sure," she said.

"Go back to sleep, hon."

He slipped out of the room and sunk down into the chair by the window. He wiped his face with his hands and pressed hard on his eyes. He just wanted to images to stop swirling. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes. He saw her face. His eyes shot open again. He would read.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

The next day Elizabeth Darrow found herself at the Jeffersonian being directed to Dr. Temperance Brennan's office. She wasn't sure what she would say and she had no idea the reaction she would get. Seeley didn't speak of Dr. Brennan. He answered her questions (when she had them) and she knew he was telling the truth because sometimes the answers were hurtful, but he never initiated the conversation and he didn't say anything to be mean. It was simply the truth. When asked, Seeley told her that Brennan and he were partners (it felt more present tense than past). When pushed he said that if Brennan were ever in trouble, he would drop what he was doing and help her. When pressed further, he informed Elizabeth that if Brennan's life was threatened - he would kill or die to protect her. He added that he would do the same for Elizabeth and he pointed out that Brennan was no longer a part of his life or his future. The only questions he did not answer were love questions: had he been and/or was he still in love with her? A point blank question netted no answer - literally. Elizabeth didn't take that to mean that he was, she took it to mean that he didn't know, and that the truth of that question was immaterial to how he would proceed with the rest of his life. She knew that Seeley was an honorable man, and because of that she believed that Temperance Brennan was not a threat to her relationship with Seeley. But she also knew that Seeley was not the man he used to be. He was not whole. Before she could commit to a marriage, to a lifetime, he had to be whole again, or as whole as he could be and Dr. Brennan was her best hope at getting him back.

"Dr. Brennan?" Elizabeth asked standing in Brennan's doorway.

Brennan and Hodgins were reviewing some findings. She looked up and recognized Elizabeth right away. Her heart froze; something had happened with Booth. "Yes." She stood up immediately. Hodgins stepped back.

"I am Elizabeth Darrow. I am -."

"I know who you are, Ms. Darrow."

"May I speak with you?" She glanced at Hodgins. "Privately."

Brennan nodded at the wide-eyed Hodgins signaling him to go.

"Sure, sure ... we can finish this later." He stepped out but kept looking back at the two women.

Brennan motioned for them to move to her couch.

"Thank you for speaking with me. There was no one else I could talk to." Brennan waited. "I know that you and Seeley were close."

"We are partners, nothing more," she assured Elizabeth.

"Seeley still considers you his partner too."

"We haven't spoken, Ms. Darrow," she defended. "Not since we met - by accident - six weeks ago."

"You saw him since he has been back?" Elizabeth was surprised. She would have thought Seeley would have mentioned it.

"Yes, just the once. We only spoke for five minutes."

"Tell me ... is he the same? I mean is he the same man as he was?"

Brennan looked down and shook her head. "I imagine no one can be the same after experiencing what he has experienced."

"You know what happened? I mean you know the details? Did he tell you? He has never spoken of it to me."

"It is not Booth's way," she explained. "He did not speak of it to me." Brennan knew the details because she had read the After Action report. Brennan had used her clearance to get her hands on a copy right after Booth sent her away. She knew what he had done. She knew what happened. She knew that his actions saved many civilians and military personnel. Unfortunately six men lost their lives and Booth was injured quite severely. She suspected that time would help him accept the loss and appreciate that his actions were correct in light of a horrific circumstance and loss of life. Apparently he had not fully dealt with it evidenced by the fact that his fiancée was in her office.

"No, he doesn't talk to anyone. He doesn't sleep at night. He barely eats. He goes through the motions, but - I didn't know him before so I can't really judge, but I feel him drifting further away."

"Why are you here, Ms. Darrow?" Brennan asked earnestly.

"I want him to seek professional help, but he said something about having a bad experience with a psychologist." Brennan nodded. She didn't blame Sweets entirely, but he certainly was a player in all that had happened up to the point when they went their separate ways. "Maybe you could speak with him?"

Brennan shook her head. She could not help Booth. He wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't allow it now any more than he allowed it when he was lying in the hospital bed, but there was someone who might. "I will speak with someone who will contact Booth."

"What do I do in the mean time?"

"I imagine that you care for him very much."

"Yes," she said without affect. "More than I expected I would."

Brenna was puzzled by her comment. Did Elizabeth love Booth? She shook the thought away, it was not her place to question that. "Then you are doing all you can, Ms Darrow."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan entered the busy kitchen just before the restaurant opened. She was nearly bowled over by a bus boy carrying a tub of flatware to the dining room at very high speed. Chef Wyatt was in the corner barking orders. He looked harried and frazzled. She had never seen him look like that, but then again she normally didn't notice. She waited until he looked like he was done and put up a hand to get his attention.

"Dr. Brennan," he called in his sing-song way. "Lovely to see you." She crossed the kitchen. "Do you have your dashing partner with you? Are you joining me for dinner?"

"No," she stated. "May I speak with you on a matter of some importance?"

He looked around the kitchen. "It is rather a bad time, as you see."

"Booth's fiancée is worried that he is suffering from post traumatic stress from the incident in Afghanistan and should be seeking professional help. Would you speak with him?"

Gordon Wyatt was completely taken aback. Clearly the ex-Dr. Wyatt had missed a lot in the time since he last spoke with Booth and Brennan: Afghanistan? PTSD? Fiancée? "Dr. Brennan," he explained. "As I have insisted repeatedly, I am no longer a psychiatrist. Not a professional who can provide that kind of help to Booth or anyone else." It wasn't that he was unconcerned about Booth; nor was the seriousness of her assertions lost on him. However, if any part of what she said were true, then Booth really did need to see a professional for extended care.

"He trusts you. Please meet with him … form your own opinion. Help him," she pleaded.

Dr. Wyatt had never seen Brennan so impassioned. "And pray, what is your own opinion?"

"I don't know psychology," she professed without the typical distain that she had exhibited in the past. "I am not qualified to form an opinion as I have only observed Booth once in person since recovering from his injuries. We have had almost no contact in the past several months. However his fiancée seems quite concerned."

"Clearly there have been changes to your partnership."

Brennan looked nervous. "Yes."

"Do you hold yourself responsible for this state of affairs in some way?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"No, of course you don't." Wyatt was shaking his head. "I don't think I am your man, Dr. Brennan. I suspect that Dr. Sweets would better serve you."

"I can't go to Sweets," she protested. "All of this was his fault."

"Come now Dr. Brennan, you don't truly believe that."

"He was a factor," she asserted. "Please, Dr. Wyatt."

"Alright, alright. I will meet with him … over dinner. Bring him in some night soon and I will talk to him."

"Booth won't like that. He will feel betrayed. Is there no way you would consider seeking him out?"

"Booth will know that someone contacted me either way."

"Agreed … I will suggest to Elizabeth – his fiancée - that he contact you directly." She considered if there was anything else she wanted to say and decided not. "Thank you Dr. Wyatt. Thank you for speaking with me." She turned to leave.

"Dr. Brennan," he called her back. "You do not want to give me any more details?"

"No," she stated. "You need to be objective. I have already said too much."

"Dr. Brennan," he called her back one more time. "And how are you dealing with all this fallout?"

"Fine, I am fine." She left abruptly.

"Of course you are." A look of disappointment crossed his face. A tray of dishes crashed to the floor behind him and he was back to being Chef.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_**The evidence had been checked, double checked and triple checked. She found herself thinking about what would Lister do. How would Lister interpret the evidence. She didn't do this part. She was the one who found the facts, he was the one who put them together to form a picture. How could she do that without him? How was she going to find the man responsible without his help?**_

_**"Dr. Reichs," her assistant said from her doorway. "The hospital is on line one."**_

_**Her heart froze. "Reichs," she barked into the receiver. "I'm on my way."**_


	4. Chapter 4

**A Bride for Booth**

**By LizD**

**Written May 2010 - July 2010**

**Chapter 4**

**Early July**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Three days later, Booth and Elizabeth had dinner at Wyatt's restaurant. Elizabeth called ahead and dropped Wyatt's name a few times ensuring that he would be told of their reservation. She did not take Brennan's advice and be direct and honest with Booth; opting for the accidental encounter with Booth's old shrink.

If Booth remembered that Wyatt was the chef at that particular restaurant he didn't let on. When dessert was brought out, Chef Wyatt made an appearance in the dining room. He made his rounds at the tables ensuring that the guests were satisfied with the culinary creations he had provided. Eventually he made it to Booth's table.

"Why Agent Booth, you did not tell me you would be joining me for dinner this evening."

Booth stood automatically. "Chef Wyatt," he said extending his hand. "I did not know myself, my fiancée made the reservations." He gave her a brief scolding glance. "Elizabeth Darrow, please allow me to introduce you to Chef Gordon Wyatt. We have him to thank for this excellent meal. Chef, my fiancée." Wyatt noticed right away that Booth did not have his typical _**joie de vivre**_ when referring to him - no Gordon Gordon, no smile, no _**je ne sais quoi**_.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear."

"And you Chef." She looked nervous. "Dinner was fantastic. The duck melted in my mouth. Do you have a moment to join us for some coffee?"

Booth shuttered at that request but didn't say anything. Wyatt of course accepted the invitation. They chatted about food, wine and whatnot for a few minutes – purely superficial topics. Elizabeth excused herself from the table claiming the need to return a phone call. Booth was fully aware that he had been set up, but he was unsure by whom.

"She is lovely, Agent Booth."

"Yes, she is." He smiled but added nothing else.

"So where did you meet?"

Booth decided that there was no reason to be annoyed or lie. The chef's head shrinking days were over. He told him about being injured but not the extent of his injuries or the details of the incident. He said that Elizabeth was the physical therapist that helped him recover; but that once he was well he found he enjoyed her company and asked her to marry him. There was no passion in his voice; he could have been talking about two other people or the weather. Wyatt did not press for the details either.

When asked how Booth had gotten from the FBI to active duty in Afghanistan, Booth explained that his services were requested by the Secretary of Defense. He was compelled to go; to serve his country. Wyatt did not press the notion that he had already served his country at quite of bit of personal cost and was continuing to serve his country as an investigator with major crimes at the FBI.

Booth volunteered that he was out of major crimes and assigned to Counterterrorism. When asked how he liked that kind of work, Booth simply said that it was important work that needed dedicated vigilant people. Wyatt didn't inquire further.

Finally Wyatt got around to asking about Dr. Brennan. Booth's expression did not change. He did not miss a beat. He explained about Maluku and the amazing scientific discovery there adding that Brennan would be famous – in the anthropological circles.

Wyatt then inquired after Sweets to which Booth very curtly said that the book was a bust and that he had not seen him since he had been back. Wyatt of course had spoken to Sweets many months before that and knew about his book, the conclusion, the first case that Brennan and Booth worked together and that Sweets had chosen not to pursue a re-write.

"So, if I am hearing you correctly, you chose accept the government's assignment because Dr. Brennan was leaving for her expedition and you didn't want to be left behind and all this came about after you read the estimable Dr. Sweets' manifesto on your partnership which concluded that you two were in love. What effect did that revelation have on you and the lovely Dr. Brennan?"

Booth had his answer. Brennan had been the one to suggest Wyatt to Elizabeth. "As we have discussed before, CHEF - Dr. Brennan was not in love with me. So Sweets' interpretation had no effect."

"Right, right," Wyatt nodded. "Of course. And now you are engaged to a lovely woman and planning a future. And how does it feel to be back? Are you adjusting to your new life? Resuming old acquaintances, like myself?"

Booth leaned back in his chair and took a very deep cleansing breath, choosing his words very carefully. "Chef, I had an excellent meal. Thank you," he started. "I will tell all my friends. I really appreciate your hospitality and I don't want to be rude, but my career choices, my relationships and my coping mechanisms are not any of your concern. You are a chef, correct?"

Chef Wyatt nodded once. "You are absolutely correct, Agent Booth." He stood up and extended his hand. "Agent, it was a pleasure seeing you again. I hope you will not be a stranger." Booth stood as well. "If you will indulge an old friend, you might want to consider making it someone's concern besides your own." Booth's jaw clenched preventing him from saying anything. They men shook hands. "Please tell your lovely Elizabeth that I wish her a good evening." He bowed slightly and returned to the kitchen.

Booth sat back down slamming his napkin down on the table. Elizabeth returned to the table almost immediately. "I'm sorry I missed your friend."

"Whose idea was this?" he asked. Booth's tone was cold; colder than she had ever felt before.

"Excuse me?"

"Elizabeth, there is one thing you can never do, you can never lie or manipulate me. I would have thought you – of all people – would know that. In all the time we have known each other, you have never lied to me – at least not to my knowledge. I can't have it. I won't tolerate it. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said simply. "I'm sorry. My intentions were good. I think you are in a great deal of pain, pain that I can't help you recover from. I would really like you to speak with someone."

He smiled slightly. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"All you had to do was ask. You are my priority, my only priority," he said flatly. "Do you understand?"

She nodded. She understood the words, but she didn't understand the distance in his voice, the warning in his eyes.

He had to ask, but he knew the answer. "How did you find Dr. Wyatt?" he asked.

"Dr. Brennan."

Booth felt anger slowly crawling up his spine that he needed to control. He would not have it. He would not have Brennan interfering in his life. He would not have Elizabeth and Brennan bonding over his mental health. "How did you two meet?" he asked.

"I went to see her," she owned. "I was trying to help."

Booth just nodded. He would take the matter up with Brennan.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Booth stood outside Brennan's office door. She was working with someone he had never seen before. They were clearly familiar, almost intimate. The man - tall, sandy brown shoulder length hair, lanky - was standing behind her and they were working on her laptop. It must be the colleague who was writing the paper with her. Booth watched as the stranger leaned over her, putting his hand over hers on the mouse redirecting it. They laughed. From where he was standing, he saw no sign of discomfort or embarrassment from her. They were more than colleagues he concluded.

"Booth?" Angela asked. "It is you!" He turned to see her bright smile and laughing eyes. She was a stunningly attractive woman; he had forgotten. "My God, I wondered when we would see you here." She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He returned the embrace without the same level of exuberance.

Hodgins had seen Booth across the lab and approached. "Hey Booth, good to see you man." He thought about hugging him too but there was something very closed off about Booth. He stuck out his hand for a firm shake.

"SEELEY BOOTH!" Cam called from the other side of the lab as she walked with great determination toward him. "It is about time you dropped by here." She pulled him into a rough embrace that he accepted but did not return. "You look great."

It was Booth's turn to say something. "It is nice to see all of you again."

"Hasn't been the same without you, Big Man."

"Yeah, Booth ... you coming back?" Angela asked. She knew the answer but thought she had to ask.

"I am working Counterterrorism."

"And how is that going?" Hodgins thought about making some crack about the government and conspiracies and the complete lack of interdepartmental cooperation, but changed his mind.

"Good, it is good. Different, but important."

"Right, Right ... keeping us safe for democracy - or capitalism."

He turned back and saw Brennan and her colleague standing in the doorway. They had stopped their work when they heard the commotion.

"Temperance," he said looking at the man standing a little too closely to her.

"Booth," she surveyed him for some sign of why he was there. She noticed that he wasn't looking at her. "Booth, this is Dr. Geoffrey Winthrop Pearce of Oxford. He is the co-author on the Maluku project. Geoff, this is Special Agent Seeley Booth, my partner." It slipped out before she could stop herself. Booth had no reaction, Angela, Hodgins and Cam all exchanged looks.

"Ah, yes ... Booth. Heard a great deal about you, old man." He put out a limp hand to shake. "You're reputation precedes you."

Booth returned the handshake and was less than impressed with Dr. Geoffrey Winthrop Pearce. "Do you have a moment, Temperance?" Booth asked. Again Cam, Angela and Hodgins exchanged a look.

"Sure," she said hiding her nervousness with her usual façade. "Geoff, please continue with what we were talking about, making those changes." She stepped out of her office. "Let's take a walk." She stepped in front of Booth expecting him to follow.

"Come back and see us," Cam called.

"Better yet ... Founding Fathers ... tonight ... eight o'clock. We'll toast your homecoming."

Booth turned back and waved but didn't consent to the meeting.

-xx-

They walked the grounds outside the Jeffersonian in silence for a while getting the maximum amount of distance between them and the other people. It was a very hot day in Washington but the gardens were full.

He stepped in front of her and turned back to her - very confrontationally. "You told Elizabeth to bring me to see Dr. Wyatt."

It wasn't exactly what happened, but to pick apart the details would only feel desperate on her part to maintain his good opinion. "Yes."

"Why?"

"I was told that you were -."

"That I was what? How do I appear to you, Temperance? I am doing everything I can. I am working and productive. I see my son as often as I can. I go to mass every Sunday and confession every Saturday. I am in a relationship with a woman and we are planning a future. I keep moving forward. What else do you want from me?"

"You are not your old self," she protested as if she had some knowledge of that.

"Neither are you," he accused.

"No, I suppose that we have both changed." She shifted her position wondering if she should broach the next part. "Given what you experienced -."

"What do you know about what I experienced?" he snapped back at her.

"I read the After Action report," she confessed honestly.

"You what? You had no right ... how did you ...?"

"My clearance is higher than yours, Booth. I drew a string."

"Pull some strings," he corrected automatically. "Well, don't ... don't pull any more strings for me or about me. It was wrong."

"I know," she said tearing up. "I was worried about you. I still worry about you - all the time."

"I am fine, Temperance," he asserted. "I need some time, OK ... just time."

"And distance apparently," she added. "Will you talk to somebody?"

He looked hurt. "I thought I was?"

"Are you? This does not feel like a discussion, this feels like a reprimand."

"Can I talk to you?" he asked earnestly.

"Yes," she said thinking that she should say 'no.' "Of course ... we are partners - friends."

"Are we?"

"Yes."

Her simple honest declaration was too much for him. After all he had done, said and thought about her - how could she possible still think of him as a friend? He had to get away. "I have to get back to work. They don't like me out of the office for long periods of time." He gave her a tentative nod and turned away.

She waited until he was out of sight. She had no idea if she were supposed to initiate the next contact between them or if she should wait for him. It would have been so much easier if there was a case to distract them yet keep them together. That was how they worked through everything in the past- through a case.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

_**Dr. Kathy Reichs stood over her partner's hospital bed. A monitor blinked out his vitals, a machine pumped air into his lungs, IV bags dripped medicine and sustenance into his veins. He had been unconscious for days. They said it was a coma, and they were talking about removing all life support. Lister had left very explicit instructions and Reichs was responsible for making it happen. Intellectually she knew what she had to do, what he wanted, what she would have wanted if the positions were reversed, but she found she couldn't give the order. She had to believe that he was going to recover. **_

_**"Dr. Reichs?" the nursed said. "Visiting hours are over."**_

_**Kathy nodded but did not turn to see the nurse. She pressed Lister's hand and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "You are not dying, partner. You will get well. I need you." She kissed his forehead and slipped from the room before the tears came.**_


	5. Chapter 5

A Bride for Booth

By LizD

Written May 2010 - June 2010

Chapter 5

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**Early August**

She felt him there before she saw him. There wasn't another physical presence on the planet that elicited such a profound sense of joy and fear, hope and pain. "Booth." She turned to see his silhouette in her door.

"Took a chance that you would be working late," he said softly and stepped into the dim light.

His face was drawn and dark. He looked weary. Her only thought was to protect him, help him, take a way his pain. "Yes, yes," she said struggling not to say more.

He had something important to say to her. Something he needed her to understand but he had no idea how he was going to broach the topic or what he was going to say to get through. He still wasn't sure if it was something he wanted to say, something wanted her to hear, or if it was something that just had to be done. "May I interrupt you?"

"Of course." He never needed to ask that, he never had in the past. She was freshly reminded of the distance between them, a distance that was felt more deeply the closer he was to her. She got up and moved away from her desk. "Drink?"

"No thanks, don't drink much anymore." Booth had lost the taste for alcohol too. He watched as she moved to the shelf to retrieve the bottle of Scotch - his preferred brand - it was unopened and dusty as if she were waiting for him to open it.

It had been weeks since their conversation in the Jeffersonian Gardens. To open the lines of communication, she had emailed him regularly; daily, sometimes twice a day if she got a response. Just as she had done when she first arrived in Indonesia, just as she had done after he sent her away from his recovery. The recent ones had been filled with information about the cases she was working. Her main purpose was to get him comfortable again corresponding with her and she thought the topics of the emails would be a good icebreaker. It was probably against some law to discuss the cases over email, but she was willing to risk it. She was careful not to mention names, places or specifics, but gave him enough to be interested in the outcome. He did respond with some good ideas. He helped to turn the direction of a couple of investigations that netted the arrest of the killer. One of those arrests was that day.

"Yes, but we closed a case, it is tradition," she said. He shrugged an acceptance of the offered drink. She poured, handed him the glass and touched hers glass to his. "Thanks for your help," she said. He smiled slightly and wet his lips with the liquor without actually drinking. He didn't feel he was that much help. The larger problem for Booth was that he had begun to look forward to her emails every day - too much - hence the reason for the midnight visit. The work he was doing with Counterterrorism was important and very necessary, but it really was not his style. Her emails were shifting his focus, turning his head, distracting him from the work he had chosen. It was becoming too much for him and he had to put a stop to it. He also discovered that he was thinking about her more, about their past, about all that had been lost. Also very distracting. It made it difficult to stay focused on Elizabeth.

She sat down on the couch. "Tell me about your work."

"Not much to tell really. Lots of data, collating, reviewing, reading between the lines, interpreting motive and actions from emails, wiretaps, travel docs. Pretty dry. Spend most of my time on my butt in front of a computer. I am not a desk guy – but it is nice not to worry about being shot at." She nodded not saying that she was also grateful that he wasn't putting himself in unnecessary danger. "So you aren't going into the field with Perotta, huh?"

"No, I have no interest." She took a long pull on her drink.

"Really?" He wondered if it had something to do with him or if she was still feeling the disillusionment that prompted her to head to Maluku in the first place.

"Really - and Agent Perotta has no interest in working with me beyond the lab." There were so many other reasons. Perotta didn't have her back. Perotta didn't value Brennan's contribution. Perotta was not dedicated to finding the truth; she just wanted a conviction. Of course Booth was the only reason she wanted to go into the field in the first place was a factor. And without him her heart wasn't into it. In conclusion, without Booth, she wanted nothing more than lab work, and without him the lab work was getting tedious. "Have you considered returning to major crimes?"

"No," he stated unequivocally but it was a lie. "I have thought about quitting altogether." Also a lie.

"Have you?"

"I am considering a move to San Diego." That was the truth. Not serious consideration, but it was something that Elizabeth had thrown out there.

Brennan felt the dull ache in her heart deepen. "San Diego?"

"Elizabeth's family – a mother, a sister and a sister-in-law from her first marriage – live there."

"I didn't expect that you would move away from Parker."

"Rebecca and I are talking about changing the arrangement. Her husband has an opportunity in Canada. Parker would come spend holidays and the summers with me whether I am in Washington or California. Ultimately it would be more time together."

"I can see the advantage to that."

"Nothing has been decided," he hedged.

Brennan drained her glass and refilled it. "We are working on an interesting case that I haven't told you about yet," she said talking very quickly. She moved to her desk to grab the file. She babbled on for many minutes outlining the case. Booth talked over the evidence they had discovered and what was missing. He gave some insight, but it really was nothing that Brennan hadn't thought of. "Good idea, wish I thought of that," she grinned.

Booth smiled with her knowing that she had already thought of that and they were working on it. "You are becoming - always were, I suppose - a first rate detective." He felt himself being drawn to her.

"Learned from the best," she stated. She touched her glass to his again. This time Booth actually did drink. He needed courage to do what he had to do. He just didn't know how to broach the subject.

"So what is going on with your ... what is it a paper, journal article ... comic book?" He let a cute teasing smirk edge his lips. "Temperance Brennan, Tomb Raider."

"There were no tombs," she defended and then realized he was joking. "It will be published in October."

"And your findings?"

"Profound, but not as defining as I had originally hoped." She didn't need to go into too many details. If he really wanted to know he could have read her emails of the past year - though many of them were still sitting in her draft folder. Rather than send them, she had kept them as her personal journal. If he had read them closely, he would have noticed that many of her comments described a shift in her attitudes and opinions about interpersonal relationships. He probably hadn't read them.

"Well I'm sorry. A lot of work went into that." She nodded but wasn't thinking about the work as much as the time it took away from other people and things. "And what about another novel? Do you have another one coming out any time soon? Met a kid the other day who couldn't stop talking about your work."

Brennan looked down. How could she tell him that she was working on the Final Kathy Reichs/Andy Lister book? She started writing novels after she met him, how would he view a final novel? How did she view it? When she started this last one it was a cathartic way to help her accept that Booth had moved on. What would he think if she killed off Andy Lister? "I am working on something, but my editor says she has lots of notes, so it will be a while yet." There were no notes; her editor didn't know that there was a new book. No one knew.

"I look forward to it." There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. It was time he got to the point. "So ... I am having sessions with Sweets - at Elizabeth's request. Well she didn't pick Sweets, but she wanted me to ... well you know."

She leaned back; her shoulders dropped and she couldn't hide the disappointment on her face. She thought they agreed that he would talk to her. The fact that he hadn't contacted her in all that time was just .. well it was something she didn't think about. They were conversing through the cases - just like old times (sort of). "How is that going?"

"He is still a kid, but I just couldn't see breaking in a new shrink."

"Sweets - in fact - is a psychologist, not a psychiatrist - so he would not be considered a _**shrink**_."

"Well whatever he is." Booth moved off the arm of the couch and sat closer to her. She turned to face him. "It has been about three weeks so far ... six sessions ... so nothing much. He has some ideas about the insomnia that might help."

"You are still suffering from insomnia?"

"It happens," he said meaning that it happens to survivors. The fact that she knew about his insomnia was annoying. How much had Elizabeth disclosed? "Sometimes I get less than an hour's sleep a night. Makes it a little hard to focus the next day." Still, he wanted her to know about him but not too much.

"What do you do when you can't sleep?"

"Usually I just lie there looking up at the ceiling. If I get out of bed it wakes Elizabeth up - no reason for us both to lose sleep."

Brennan looked away forcing the image of Booth and Elizabeth in bed out of her mind. "I am typically up at 4AM most mornings. It's when I get my writing done."

"Suggesting that I should write a novel?" he smirked at her with the trademark sparkle in his eye.

"I'm sure you have a story or two to tell," she answered back steadily. "It is very cathartic, even if you don't intend to publish."

"Yeah, but I don't write so _**good**_." He smiled. "Could use a ghost writer..."

It sounded like a request, but Brennan didn't respond. She had another question in mind. "Do you think about the incident when you lie awake at night unable to sleep? Do you feel responsible for those soldiers' deaths?"

And there was his opening. How could he have ever doubted that she would give him one? He was sorry for what he was about to do - or he would have been if he was actually aware of what was about to happen. "There you are!" he snapped with too much anger in his voice. He got up and moved away. "That's the woman I fell in love with. I was wondering if I had killed you too."

"I don't understand."

"Temperance Brennan you are the most direct, intrusive, unrelenting person I have ever known. Tenacious! Insensitive! Exacting! Yet you haven't asked me a direct question since I woke up in the hospital; at least not until this moment. I thought I had killed you too."

She felt attacked. "That doesn't answer my question."

"No, I suppose it doesn't. The obvious answer is yes, when I can't sleep at night I replay _**the incident**_ – as you so _**adroitly**_ refer to it. I call it a bombing. I replay that and seventy-three other incidents like it in my head over and over and over again. And before you ask, yes my count is up to 74." He finished the scotch and put the glass down roughly not really paying attention to his math. "Some shows should never go into syndication." His anger was building, something he rarely allowed himself to feel, much less express and never with anyone else. Brennan, without meaning to, pushed the right button at the right time to serve his purpose. She would be the one to suffer for it. That was not his intent, but it would serve his purpose.

"I don't know what that means."

"Reruns?" He started to explain and then waved his hand to show he wasn't going to bother. "Do you want to know what I think about? What I think about as I lie there in the dark keeping as still as the grave? I think about the split second before I gave the order. You knew that, right? Since you read the After Action report, you probably know more about it than I do. So you know that I gave the order to intercept that truck. I gave the order that sent six men, six kids – kids who trusted me to lead them, teach them, help them stay alive - I gave the order that sent them to their deaths." She nodded. "I gave the order!"

"By doing so you saved hundreds of lives, Booth. If that truck had been allowed to cross the barricade all those civilians, all the military personnel working there would have been killed - including your men. Including you!" She nearly broke down. "You saved hundreds of lives."

"I know it was the right call – you don't have to tell me that. I know. I was there. I gave the order." He tried not to tell her the next part, but he had to tell someone. "The split second before I gave the order I saw your face – your beautiful, haunting face. I saw your eyes pleading with me. I heard your voice begging me not to be a hero – and I hesitated. I hesitated. Do you understand?" She shook her head. "Neither do I. I don't know what it means. I only know that a soldier, a leader of men can't hesitate. My last thought as we rammed that truck was that I didn't want to die. That I couldn't die. You had told me not to be a hero so I would live. You told me not to die."

"I am very happy that you didn't." She was reminded of how close he came to dying. How far away she was. How helpless she felt all the time.

"Yeah, well … those six boys wanted to live too. Those six soldiers had fathers, mothers, wives and children at home that told them the same thing – don't be a hero, stay alive and come home. But somehow I lived – only me. Was it by luck? Random chance? Or was it by force of will? The unmovable, impenetrable, unrelenting force of Temperance Brennan?" She shook her head not understanding how he had mixed her up in the incident. "I don't know – but I lived and those kids didn't." She didn't know what to say or what to do. He was clearly upset and it felt like he was blaming her. "I saw you. I hesitated. I lived." They weren't facts, rather interpretations of events, but they certainly weren't cause and effect – at least not in any scientific way. Clearly Booth was not being scientific.

"What does Sweets say?"

He laughed out loud. "Are you kidding me? I haven't told Sweets that? I won't. I won't tell anyone – and neither will you," he warned. "Right?" he pressed. "Neither will you … no one." She nodded her understanding implying the promise to keep his secret. "Say the words, Temperance. Promise me."

"You have my word," she said evenly. "But shouldn't Sweets know if he is helping you work this out?"

"There is no WORKING THIS OUT. This is something that you just live with – that I just live with. There is no amount of SPIN or perspective that Sweets can toss at it to make it easier to bear. And second of all – hell no, I am not going to tell Sweets – would give him fodder for a sequel to his damned book."

She wanted to tell him that Sweets hadn't published the first one, but it didn't matter. He probably already knew. The damage was done. "Why did you send me away? In hospital, why did you send me away and stop communicating with me?" She didn't know where that question came from, but it has been hanging around the edges of her mind for a very long time.

His eyes darkened. This was a question he expected and he had an answer. "Of all the things I wanted from you … for you ... with you … I never wanted your pity."

"Pity?"

"When I asked you – as directly as I knew how – for more - more than our working partnership, you turned me down with some pathetic excuse about protecting me. When I was lying in that bed, unable to move, never expecting to walk again – I knew that if I asked again, you would say yes. I knew that if I said nothing, you would ask. That is not love. That is pity. I don't want your pity."

Brennan stood up. She wanted to be mad. She wanted to scream her anger, but she controlled it - as per usual. "You know that I don't like psychology. You know that I don't read people, not like you do … but that … that _**pity**_ you saw … that was projected." She took a breath. "That pity was from you, not from me. And you are wrong. I would have done and still will do anything for you but I can't give you the kind of life that you seek – not like that."

"How do you have any idea what kind of _**life I seek**_? Have you asked me?"

"Monogamy, commitment, marriage, children, 30, 40, 50 years - You have told me countless times – and your choice of Elizabeth is proof that that is the life you want."

"You could have stopped that," he stated. "One word from you could have stopped that before anyone got hurt."

"All I have ever wanted is your happiness."

"You should have trusted me to know what would make me happy."

"You should have trusted me to know my limitations."

Brennan was still holding on to that ludicrous position. "Elizabeth is good for me," he stated as if convincing himself. Brennan nodded. "I am lucky to have her." He paced the room and ran his hands through his hair. "I don't deserve her. I have done nothing to deserve her." He paused stopping himself from saying the hundred or so things he wanted to say. "So you are the genius, tell me what I am supposed to do."

"You go back to work," she stated like it was obvious.

"Excuse me?"

"You keep talking to Sweets .. and you go back to work. Back to what you have been trained to do. The longer you try to be something you are not, the harder it will be to get the time and distance you need to get your faith back."

"So I am just supposed to fake it … fake it until I make it?"

"I don't know what that means." She sunk back down on to the couch.

"No, no you wouldn't." Booth's phone rang. Brennan checked the clock; she had lost all track of time. It was after one in the morning. Clearly it was Elizabeth calling. "Hi honey," he said gently. "I'm sorry. I should have called." He stole a glance at Brennan. "At the office. I got tied up with a few things. ... I'll be home soon. Go to sleep. I will try not to wake you when I come in. Ok ... Good night, honey." He snapped his phone shut and struggled not to look guilty. He had no reason to be guilty - at least not about Brennan, but he shouldn't have lied.

"Why did you lie about where you were?" she asked pointedly.

"There is no reason to bring her into this, Temperance."

"Into what?"

"Look, I know that you think just because you say something it happens. Just because you agree to feel a certain way that you just do - well newsflash, most people don't. You and me and the feelings that I have - had," he corrected. "Well they clearly had a huge bearing on the events of the past year - two years. Decisions were made and shit happened. Is there blame? I don't know, but bottom line - I haven't moved on - at least not completely - not yet. You are still in my head. You are in my -." He stopped again; stopped before he said what he was trying desperately not to say. "I can't keep doing this. You distract me. Make me lose focus - on my job, on Elizabeth, on my life. How is that fair? How is that fair to Elizabeth? To me? Tell me. What am I supposed to do about that, Genius?"

Brennan fought back the tears. He could not see; he could never know how much he was hurting her. Maybe she deserved it, maybe she didn't, but Booth was the only thing that mattered. He was in pain and needed to lash out, needed to lash out at her apparently. She could take it. From Booth she could take it. "Ok."

"Ok what? That is not an answer."

"I will stop trying to engage you. No more emails." There was nothing else she could take away. It was that last connection they had. "You are no longer working major crimes, you will probably move to San Diego, I will be out lecturing or will take a job at some other institution – we will cut all contact."

"I don't want that," he protested but it was exactly the outcome he had expected when he went there that night but he found that when it came down to it that was not what he wanted.

"I don't know how to do this," she said. "I don't know what to say or do. This is completely outside my experience and knowledge base. But it has to be done. You have connected me to the incident in Afghanistan -."

"Stop calling it an INCIDENT. It was a bombing ... say the word, Temperance. BOMBING."

"Bombing," she said as tears streamed down her face. "Somehow you have you have connected my parting words to you and that BOMBING and your survival. You are struggling with that. I can't help you. Maybe Gordon Gordon Wyatt or Sweets can help. But I can't. I don't understand. I hate psychology."

"Temperance!"

"Booth, it is the only way." She stood up effectively ending the conversation. "You need to go. Go home to your fiancée. Let Sweets help you. Forget about me and make a life for yourself. Be happy." She walked passed him out of the office. He tried to follow, but she disappeared behind some security doors – doors that he used to have a key to.

"Right, simple as that," he mocked. "Brennan says it and it is so. Thanks a lot."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

_**"I am sorry, Dr. Reichs. Agent Lister didn't make it," the doctor said. "He died early this morning. There was nothing more we could have done."**_

_**Kathy folded onto the floor. She couldn't cry. She couldn't scream. She was paralyzed. Dead? He was really dead? Her friend, her lover, her partner was dead.**_

{Exit} {Don't Save}

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

A/N: I was recently reminded that PTSD is a very real and potentially very debilitating or life threatening problem for anyone who suffers from it be they soldiers in war or children of abusive parents or victims of violent crimes. As defined by the DSM-IV:

_**Posttraumatic stress disorder (post-traumatic stress disorder, PTSD) is a severe anxiety disorder that can develop after exposure to any event that results in psychological trauma. This event may involve the threat of death to oneself or to someone else, or to one's own or someone else's physical, sexual, or psychological integrity, overwhelming the individual's ability to cope. **_

I fear that I am devaluing the magnitude of such a disorder by using it as a plot device to advance a piece of fan-fiction. That I am somehow diminishing the military personnel who put their lives and mental health on the line to protect and defend. That is not my intent. If you or someone you know suffers from PTSD please seek professional help. Don't dismiss the potential good that can come from therapy as blithely as Booth does.


	6. Chapter 6

A Bride for Booth

By LizD

Written May 2010 - June 2010

Chapter 6

**Early August**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

The next morning Brennan was still at work. Cam knew that it was another all-nighter for her but from the looks of her it looked like it wasn't all about work.

"You shouldn't work this hard, Tempe," she said. "Why don't you take the day off? You're exhausted."

"I am pretty tired. Maybe just a nap and shower."

"Take the day, T," she repeated. "From your boss."

Brennan nodded and reached over to shut her computer down. "Cam, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"You have known Booth for many years."

"Well, I used to know him … he is not talking to me much these days."

"You know some of what happened to him over there, right?"

"Some."

"I am not at liberty to discuss the details – National Security and from Booth himself," she explained.

"I understand."

"He can recover from this, right?"

Cam smiled slightly. "Yes," she assured the good doctor. "He is the strongest man I know. I suppose what happened was pretty bad, and that he suffered physically pretty badly, but he will find his way back. Booth doesn't know how not to." Brennan nodded trying to find faith in Cam's words. "And for the record, whatever Booth is going through right now is not your fault."

Brennan thought for a long moment before she responded. "I accept that … intellectually." But he had seen her face, he had hesitated, he willed himself to live, he wouldn't have been there at all if she had not gone to Maluku. Was she really innocent?

"We all have regrets, Tempe. We all wish we would have said or done things differently at any number of times in our lives. And we all like to think that if we had made different choices things would have turned out differently - better. But it's not true, not necessarily true. Things could be so much worse. Booth could have died over there."

"Don't say that," Brennan protested.

"Anyone of us could get hit by a bus … we don't know what is around the next corner. All we can do is the best we can do at the time."

"I understand that … intellectually."

"We all do that too." She smiled warmly at Brennan. "Have you talked to Booth - recently?" Brennan looked down. Cam knew immediately that they had spoken and it didn't go well. She couldn't believe that Booth would blame Brennan for anything, but she did know enough to know that when someone is grieving they often lash out at anyone standing near and more often at the people they love. Booth was most certainly grieving and probably guilt ridden, and it makes some odd twisted sense to blame Brennan, but it was still wrong. Dead wrong. "Get some sleep. We will see you tomorrow, OK?"

"Thanks, Cam."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Booth got out of the shower to find Elizabeth in the bathroom blow drying her hair. He had discovered that she did not need as much personal space as he did and it was something that was beginning to really bother him. Couldn't he get just 20 minutes to himself in the morning? Just one more thing that he had to keep from her.

Since they had been back, the old stuff, the stuff he didn't want think about had been weighing on his mind. He didn't talk to her about it; he couldn't talk to her about it, but it was consuming his attention. It was getting harder to put any number of things out of his mind and focus on her. She clearly had noticed. Her constant question of: "you Ok?" was getting to be really tedious. She didn't push to know what was going on, but she always pushed to get confirmation that things were OK.

Things were decidedly NOT OK.

"You going to be late again tonight?" she asked casually.

"No, regular time." He stepped out into the bedroom to dry off.

"I was going to go out with some people after work, you OK with that?"

"Sure," he wasn't really listening.

"Do you want to meet up with us?" She came into the bedroom and struck a pose in the door way. She wasn't dressed for work yet. "I would really like you to meet the people I work with. They're a lot of fun."

"Let's see how the day plays out, Ok?"

"Sure, babe." She stepped seductively up to him and slid her hands up his chest and linked them behind his neck. He was clearly not interested but was forced to look her in the eye. "I don't need to be at work for another two hours," she purred seductively.

He kissed her hard and made an attempt at being responsive. "Nothing I would like more, but I am late already." He released her and turned away wiping his mouth. He didn't even realize he was doing it. She did.

"Maybe you can call in sick," she stretched out on the bed showing him her best side.

He was pulling clothes out of the closet. "Sorry honey, but I have a meeting in 20 minutes." There was no meeting, at least not a meeting that he needed to be on time for.

"Ok." She sat up. He normally never refused her. He was rarely the one to initiate sex, but he hadn't ever flat out refused her in the past. "I'll be sure not to be late tonight." She said hoping he would somehow understand that she was just putting a pause on her desire.

"As late as you like, honey." He slipped on his shoes. His shirt wasn't completely buttoned and his tie was not tied. "Gotta go, talk to you later." He left the room.

Elizabeth didn't need to be a genius to know that something happened and it probably had to do with the reason he was late the night before.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

True to her word, Brennan ceased all communication with Booth. He had written an email which she did not read or respond to. He had called her office once, but she was not there and did not return his call. She was not offended by the turn the relationship was taking. She understood that Booth's ability to compartmentalize people and feelings in his life was not quite as adept as hers. She didn't believe he still had feelings for her, she believed that he was just lashing out and used her as a target particularly in light of what he had told her. It was best for Booth if she left his life entirely. She was committed to the Jeffersonian for another nine months, but hoped that the publication of the Maluku findings would provide her with speaking engagements away from Washington. Eventually she would take another position elsewhere or she would go abroad on another dig. She was always being invited or requested in various parts of the world, she just needed to fill her calendar with those either through the Jeffersonian or not. The chances of them running into each other would be greatly diminished. Or maybe he would move to San Diego. To anyone who didn't know her, she was productive and everything was fine. To the people she had allowed into her life (Angela, Hodgins, Cam) Brennan was decidedly NOT alright. They supported her the best they knew how - by allowing her to be and keeping her engaged.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Five days after Brennan's last encounter with Booth, Elizabeth Darrow sought her out again. This time it was away from the lab and prying eyes. After some prodding Booth had told Elizabeth that he had been to see Brennan. He didn't say what had happened but it was clear that that meeting was on his mind. He was pulling further and further away from Elizabeth. He was working more hours. When he couldn't sleep – which was pretty close to every night, he would get up and move to the living room. For close to a month, their sex life was failing too; more about going through the motions, than any really desire. Since the meeting with Brennan, Booth was completely disinterested to the point of refusing her on several occasions without making an attempt at an excuse.

One morning she got up early, went to the living room and caught him in a very active dream state. It was so active he was talking in his sleep. She only caught some of what he was saying: "_**Do you want me to prove it to you**_?", "_**You're pregnant?**_", "_**Bones, just give it a chance**_!", "_**I'm that guy**_." She noticed that he was very aroused. Then he stopped moving. He got rigid and yelled out: "_**Intercept, GO! GO! GO**_!" It was then that he shot up out of his dream. He was anxious, sweating and terrified. He was grabbing at his lower back where he was hit with shrapnel. It hadn't completely scarred over yet. It took him a full minute to realize where he was and calm down. When she asked what the dream was about, he dismissed it out of hand saying that he didn't remember, but went quickly to the shower to wash it away. She could guess what woke him up, and it was pretty clear what he was dreaming about before. It was obvious to Elizabeth that Brennan did have an impact on Seeley and on their relationship. Something clicked in Elizabeth. It was time to have a real woman-to-woman talk.

"Ms. Darrow," Brennan said when she saw the woman approach. "Is Booth alright?"

"That is what I was going to ask you, Dr. Brennan."

"I don't have any interaction with Booth," she stated. "I would not be qualified to answer."

"You did the other night," she challenged. "What happened?"

"Did you discuss this with Booth?"

"I am asking you - as a woman - what happened the other night?"

"He came by to say that he could no longer be our consultant."

"Consultant?" She smiled weakly at her. "Is that what you people call it?"

"He was consulting on cases that we had a difficult time clearing - all via email."

"I see. Did he give a reason why he could no longer _**consult**_ with you?"

Brennan didn't like her tone. While she couldn't disclose what Booth had actually said, she could paraphrase it for Elizabeth. "It was taking time and attention away from the things that needed his focus."

"Well that is the truth," she said snidely thinking about herself and not the work. "And that is all?"

"Yes," Brennan stated unequivocally.

Elizabeth had to pull out the big guns to get the reaction she was looking for from Brennan. "Do you think my fiancée is in love with you, Dr. Brennan?"

"No," she stated thinking it was a bizarre way to phrase the question.

"I know I asked for your help, but I wonder if that was a mistake." Elizabeth knew it was a mistake to bring Brennan back into their lives. She had only herself to blame.

"It may have been," Brennan agreed. "I do not believe that I can help him. I thought working the cases might be therapeutic; it always has been in the past. I sincerely hope he continues with Dr. Sweets."

So it was Brennan's idea to 'consult' Seeley about cases. Elizabeth had to figure a way to say 'back off, bitch' without those exact words. "Do you know why Seeley asked me to marry him?" It was a rhetorical question. She assumed Brennan would get the message that Booth was with her; no place for _**Bones**_ any more. Any other woman would have gotten that.

"We did not discuss his motives, but I believe he said that you and he could have a future."

Elizabeth was stunned by the answer. "He contacted you before he asked me?"

"Yes."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Why would he discuss that with you at all? Were you two involved?"

"Booth and I were partners for a long time, is it not reasonable that he might talk to a friend about something as life changing as marriage."

"Very reasonable - if you were a friend - but that fact that you cut out of his life at his lowest point means to me that you either don't care about him at all."

"Not true," Brennan protested.

"Or that you care about him too much." Brennan looked down. "I will go with that. So you were more than friends, more than partners. Lovers is my guess, but clearly something happened between you that has not been resolved. So how long were you two involved - sexually? And how far did it go? And who broke it off?"

"Booth and I were partners - that is all."

"Are you trying to make me to believe that you worked side-by-side with Seeley for five years and you never had sex?" Brennan shook her head _**no**_. "Never thought about it? Never flirted with the idea? Never had a bit too much to drink one night and let one thing lead to another? A kiss under the mistletoe at Christmas that lasted until New Year's morning? Never went out of town on a case for the weekend and shared a room? A Bed? Stayed an extra day _**wrapping up the loose ends**_. Didn't tell because no one asked?"

"Booth and I never had intercourse or entered into any type of sexual relationship," Brennan stated.

"Are you a lesbian?" Also a rhetorical question but designed to get a reaction.

"I am heterosexual," Brennan didn't react easily but she wasn't enjoying this confrontational Elizabeth that stood before her. Did Booth know this side of his soon-to-be bride? He wouldn't like it. He would view the entire conversation as betrayal. "I find men very sexually stimulating and satisfying."

"But not Seeley."

"We were partners, Ms. Darrow. It would have been inappropriate for us to ... cross that line."

"Well then, that is the problem. Right there. You refused him. There is nothing more attractive to a man than a woman who can resist him. It's a challenge; like waving a red cape in front of a bull. They can't help but want to charge it. But I am sure you knew that, being a genius." Brennan did not respond, but she didn't like the analysis. "Why don't you just do it? For my sake and for his. Just have sex with him, he will get you out of his system and we can move on with our lives."

"I am sorry, Ms. Darrow, but are you suggesting that Booth and I ..."

"Yes, I find I can be very practical when I need to be. You should be able to appreciate that," she said coldly. "And I would prefer you do it before we are married with children."

"Ms. Darrow -."

"Look, you are the one that got away. The poor bastard probably thinks he is in love with you – which couldn't possibly be true. I mean - look at you - cold, distant, passionless. You just aren't his type. It's just an itch that needs to get scratched. You want to help him? Scratch it! Trust me, you would enjoy yourself. Seeley is an excellent lover."

"I find this entire conversation very offensive."

"Good, be offended," she snapped. "How do you think I feel knowing that my fiancée is about to ruin any chance of happiness that we have because of a woman who has the emotional capacity of a toaster?"

"This conversation has ended, Ms. Darrow." Brennan walked away.

Elizabeth had her answer. Brennan was in love with Seeley and it was probably reciprocated. Where did that leave her?

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

_**Lister wasn't expected to last the night. He had developed an infection, pneumonia and they couldn't get his heart beat back to normal sinus rhythm. She was forced from the room when they had to bring him back to surgery to repair ... something, she wasn't listening. She knew the words, she understood the procedure, but she didn't listen. All she knew was that her partner, her lover, her friend was dying and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She had to go back to work.**_

_**"Dr. Reichs?" **_

_**She looked up at the scared little agent that stood in Lister's doorway. She had gone to his office to look through the FBI files. Normally she would not have been allowed, but there were a crew of agents pulling unpaid overtime, taking sick days and otherwise shirking their regular duties to find Jackson Salt. Lister was one of theirs and at the moment, so was Reichs. If management knew, they turned a blind eye.**_

_**"Dr. Reichs, we have something that you should see. We think we know where Salt is hiding out."**_

_**She was up and out of her chair following the young agent to the make shift war room that had been set up. It was a utility closet, but the size and lack of resources didn't make it any less productive. She reviewed what they had. It was an erroneous assumption. She knew Salt better than anyone. He would not have been found so easily. But they had found something that needed to follow up. **_


	7. Chapter 7

A Bride for Booth

By LizD

Written May 2010 - July 2010

Chapter 7

**Early August**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

A day or two later Booth called Elizabeth at work and requested that she come home on time. It was out of the blue. He said they needed to have a discussion. Of course Elizabeth's first thought went to Brennan. She assumed that Brennan had called Seeley to tell him of their conversation. She convinced herself that that wasn't the case because he didn't seem angry and Brennan didn't seem the type to tattle - but if asked directly she would have no issue stating the facts as she saw them. She wasn't going to worry about it, in fact she was going to think differently. She spent the afternoon convincing herself that it was something romantic. He had been so distant the past several days, she just assumed that his switch was flipped again and that things would be better. They were set to meet at the apartment at 7PM.

When she arrived there was no dinner, no candle light, no flowers, no soft music, nothing that made her think that the 'discussion' was romantic. Booth was on the phone in a serious conversation which he ended quickly after she arrived.

"What's going on, babe?" she asked steadily.

"Come here, sit down," he instructed. "I am considering something and it will directly affect us so I want to discuss it with you."

"Sounds serious," she said.

"Important, more than serious," he confirmed. "I don't belong in Counterterrorism, Elizabeth. It's not me. I can't do the sitting-on-a-wire thing. I need to be more proactive. You know ... "

"Yeah, I can see that you are not happy with the work. You have plenty of options, even going back into the Army as long as they keep you stateside – which they will if -"

"I was considering going back to major crimes at the FBI," he blurted out.

Elizabeth felt the wind leave her sails. "I see."

"Yes ... I was talking to Caroline Julian today and she was telling me that they are closing about 60-70 percent of those cases these days and most of those have weak cases. When I was there - we were closer to 95 percent. It is what I do, it is who I am. And yes there are terrorists in the world who are not giving up the fight, but there are also criminals, murders right here at home that can be caught and taken off the streets one by one." 

She nodded. "Beer?" she asked getting up to get herself one.

"No, I'm good."

She opened the bottle and took a big hit. "I suppose there are pros and cons to this option. So let's discuss the cons first."

"OK. Well, first would be the time factor. Working cases is 24/7. Not all the time, not every day, but there are times when calls will come in the middle of the night, or on the weekend, when we have other plans."

"And you will have to go."

"It's the job. It is also the job to follow the leads until you catch your suspect and that may lead to working late. So there will be dinners pushed or canceled."

"While I am not wild about that part, I can certainly accept it. Quality is more important than quantity, and if you are more satisfied with the work you are doing, I suspect that the time you are at home would also be more ..." she reached her hand out to stroke his arm. "More satisfying." He covered her hand with his, but leaned back and pulled his arm away slowly. The maneuver was not lost on her. "What else?"

"The very nature of the job is more dangerous. I will be hunting killers and other criminals. They tend to carry guns or might otherwise attempt to impede the investigation."

"So you are going to be getting shot at," she interpreted for him.

"I am very good at this job, Elizabeth. I don't want you to worry."

"Look, I have been a marine's wife. I know about sitting at home dreading a phone call, but it will be a little different as a cop's wife. It will be different when we have kids. It will be hard to plan a future with someone who may not live to see it. " She leaned back. "It was why William and I never had children."

"Yes it will. It will be different, but it won't be forever."

"What is the future Seeley? What do you see in five, ten, twenty years?"

"I'm not sure."

"Do you expect to make ... what Director some day? Be in administration?"

"I don't know. I am looking short term right now. One day at a time."

"Well I don't have that luxury," she said almost too harshly. "If I want to have kids, if WE want to have kids, we need to start thinking sooner than later. I am not saying tomorrow, but within the next two years."

"I know," he admitted. "As I said, I am just looking short term. How about a year ... a year in major crimes, just to get my life back, to feel like myself again and then we can revisit - everything, the job, kids … ."

"Marriage?" She looked away. "You want to revisit the idea of marriage and kids and your job in a year." It sounded bad when she put it like that.

"Yeah – well not the marriage part," he added as if he were offering her a concession.

"This doesn't feel like a discussion. This feels more like you have made up your mind and want me to just support you."

"No, that is not it at all."

"What about San Diego?"

"I don't understand."

"We talked about moving to San Diego. I assume the FEDERAL Bureau of Investigation extends to California. Would you consider going into major crimes out there?"

"I ... um ... I hadn't considered it."

"Do," she said directly. "Consider that you are asking me to put my life on hold in a city where I have no friends and no family and ultimately may be told in a year - more or less - that you have chosen your job - can't call it a career without hope for anything more, anything different - over your wife - if indeed we get married at all."

"Elizabeth." He reached out and tried to take her hand.

She pulled away and got up from the table. "Will you be working with a partner ... someone to watch your back?"

"That is typically FBI protocol."

She swallowed hard but had to ask. "What about Dr. Brennan?"

He gulped back his first reaction. "I don't expect that she will be going back out into the field with me or anyone else, but I honestly haven't spoken to her about this."

"Why not?"

"Why haven't I talked to her?"

"Why won't she go back out into the field?"

He didn't want to tell her about Brennan. It felt like he was breaking a confidence. "Before she went to Maluku there was a trial with a serial killer that really affected her. This ... person had kidnapped her and a colleague; it was only because they were geniuses and we had very good luck that they were able to be found and saved. Anyway, that trial was pretty touch and go - they had to give up their case in order to get a conviction on another. The killer nearly walked. Temperance's faith in the system was shaken. She needed to take a step back, so she went to Maluku."

"And you went to Afghanistan and now you are both back - except not completely, not until you make it back to major crimes. Why you didn't accept that position when you first came back?"

"Because we had talked about it and we decided that I should try Counterterrorism instead."

She sunk down in the chair that was farthest from him. "This isn't working is it?"

"What _**this**_ are you referring to?"

"Us."

"Don't say that."

"I have to, you won't. I thought it would be better when we got back to the states. I didn't expect overnight change, but you are pulling further and further away from me. I know you are going through some stuff. I know about the insomnia, the dreams - all of them - but I can't help you - I can't be a part of your life if you won't let me in."

"I am doing the best I can," he protested.

"I know you are. I appreciate that, but I think we made a mistake."

"Don't say that." He got up to move toward her but she shook her head to keep him away.

"I knew you weren't in love with me when you asked me to marry you. Hell, I hadn't even considered whether I loved you or not. I was still in love with my husband and never expected to think about getting married again. I thought it would come in time. You are a good man, Seeley. I thought we could find the love we needed to make a good life with each other. I thought the more distance we put between us and what happened to you in Afghanistan - that you still won't talk to me about - I thought we would get closer. Fall in love - ya know?"

"We can," he protested.

"Maybe ... maybe we can ... maybe can't. But I am beginning to believe that the THING that happened - the explosion was just the last in a long line of _**things**_ that you need to deal with – to get straight in your head. And I don't think you will be able to do that with me in your life - at least not with me in your bed. Though most of the time you aren't in your bed."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying we need a break. We need some time apart. Maybe in a month or two we can talk again. We can decide if what we want is the same and if we want to work for that. If we do, however, there will need to be some major changes for both of us. I need to finally let my husband rest. It can't have been easy for you - I am still wearing his wedding ring." Booth nodded. For some reason it never bothered him that she was still holding a candle for her dead husband. It should have, but it didn't. "And you have a few ghosts of your own to bury before we can think about getting married and really talk about our future."

He was shaking his head, but he agreed with everything she said. "I'm sorry."

"Good, you should be," she feigned a smile. "But it is not all your fault. You were in a pretty bad place and I should have known better." She slipped the diamond off her finger and put in on the table. "I am going home. Back to San Diego. We can talk, ya know, after we have had some time to think."

He nodded. "You are truly an amazing woman," he said. "I would be a fool not to love you." He pulled her into an embrace. He was a fool but so was she.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Angela was lying on Brennan's couch with a glass of wine in her hand. She had come to listen to Brennan read her latest book and give her comments and suggestions. All but the last chapter had been written and to be honest, Angela had little to add. The book was much darker than the previous ones, the killer was over complicated and the crime scenes were some of the most gruesome that Brennan had ever written. Agent Andy Lister was shot on page one and had spent the next 300 or so pages in the hospital in and out of surgeries and pretty much unconscious. Reichs had been working the evidence and chasing the shooter. Though throughout the chase the reader (listener) was witness to Reichs' internal monologue most of which had to do with the case and served as a replacement for the dialogue that would normally pass between Lister and Reichs. There were of course the occasional flashbacks that added the much needed lighter sexy scenes. But there was also a lot of internal dialogue about Reichs' feelings about working with Lister, about realizing the danger she was in and wanting to divorce herself from that life. Reichs took on too much of the blame for Lister's condition - at least in Angela's mind. But it was clear that it would be the last case for Lister and Reichs. Someone was going to die.

"Bren," Angela said without turning to look at her. "Are you going to let Lister die?"

"Let him die?"

"Yeah." She sat up and turned to her friend. "Do you really want to kill him off that badly?" Angela had always known - well everyone except Brennan knew - that so much of what Brennan wanted to happen in real life was worked out in her books - no always literally.

"I think there should be some resolution, something that should effectively end the partnership so that the reader isn't left waiting, hoping and wondering."

"Yeah, I get that. But why not kill him in the first chapter?"

"I thought leaving him in the hospital would be a reasonable way to motivate the Reichs character. If he died she would start the grieving process sooner. What would compel the reader to finish the book to see what happens?" Angela took a sip from her wine wondering what she could say to her friend who was clearly in a lot of pain. "Can I ask you something?" Brennan asked. "Is it true that a man will think his feelings are more than they are for a woman he has never had intercourse with?"

"You mean that whole 'hard to get thing'? Sure ... guys tend to want a woman who puts up more of a challenge."

"I see."

"But that has a pretty short shelf-life."

"I don't understand."

"If a man finds a woman interesting, but she isn't interested or she teases him. he might stay focused on her, but that is only until he finds the next woman who is interesting particularly if this new one doesn't resist. Men don't carry torches for women they don't love – really love." A realization came over Angela. "Are you talking about Booth? Sweetie, no."

"I saw his fiancée the other day. She implied that Booth was distracted in their relationship. She has a theory that Booth thinks he is in love with me because we haven't slept together and that if we do, he will get it out of his system and be able to more fully commit to their relationship."

"Well played, Nurse Betty." Angela shook her head. "She thinks that if she gives both you and Booth permission, it will end right there. Your love is no longer taboo. Smart cookie."

"I don't know what that means,' Brennan admitted. "She said that I was not Booth's type."

"Desperate men take desperate measures - and women are worse. She is losing him, sweetie." Brennan didn't want to hear that. "You know what I think of you and Booth and the state of affairs, sweetie. I think this woman knows she doesn't stand a chance of keeping him and is trying to get you to back away."

"I am not trying to break up his relationship, Ange. I want him to be happy."

"I know you do, sweetie."

"What do I do?"

"I told you."

"I can't do that Angela. I just can't." Angela's one consistent piece of advice is for Brennan to just tell Booth that she loves him and let the chips fall where they may.

"Then do nothing and let them work it out." Brennan didn't like that answer either. She was always better at being proactive. Angela didn't want her to dwell any longer on the issue. "So you really want this to be your last book with these two characters?"

"I think it is time," she said. "Time to move on."

Angela put her glass down and got up. "Send me the book and I will read through when I have had less to drink, OK?" She shook her head and frowned when she pulled on her coat.

"What?"

"It just makes me sad," Angela offered. "It makes me sad to think that they can't just walk off into the sunset, go live on a beach somewhere, make love and be happy."

"Does that ever happen?"

"Only if you make it happen."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan's cursor highlight _**Bones to Pick**_ file on her system. She clicked over to include her journal. He finger hung over the delete key. It would be so easy. It would wipe out the evidence of last year. It would clear the plan she had to end Kathy and Andy. She could start fresh. But the last time she deleted a work in progress she regretted it. How would things have been different if she had finished that book? It wasn't a Reichs/Lister book, it was new, new characters, new relationships. The names would of course have to be changed, but maybe it would have opened up new possibilities. Maybe. She would let Angela decide.

She hit copy. Opened an email. Addressed it to Angela. And hit SEND. She would think about it later. The book was officially put on hold.


	8. Chapter 8

A Bride for Booth

By LizD

Written May 2010 - July 2010

Chapter 8

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**Late August**

"OK Agent Booth," Sweets said. "You have been cleared."

Booth surveyed the letter he had been handed. "Ya know Sweets, I didn't think I needed to have my transfer back to major crimes approved by you, is there something you aren't telling me?"

Sweets could still be intimidated by Booth. "Well ..."

"I was under the impression that what we discussed in these ... sessions was confidential."

"To a certain degree it is. But I have a responsibility to the FBI and to the other agents to make recommendations based upon these sessions."

"Was there ever a concern?"

"Need I remind you of your past, Agent Booth? The ice cream truck? The brain tumor? The events in -."

"No Sweets, I think I know my own history."

"So does the FBI. So you must understand why I was asked for my recommendation."

"Yeah, fine ... whatever Sweets." Booth got up to leave.

"This does not mean that we no longer need to meet, Agent Booth."

"Gonna be hard to find the time," Booth said with his hand on the door. "How about I call you?"

"How about you don't make your sessions and I call the director and he pulls your badge and gun."

Booth raised himself to his full height and loomed back over Sweets. "Is that a threat?"

"An observation and a promise - a condition, if you will."

"Yeah, you are good at observing - though your promises are pretty weak."

"This is also an observation and a promise ... you have some unresolved issues as pertains to me. Your anger and animosity are evident in your tone of voice, your word choice and you body language. Until we work through that, we cannot approach the termination of these ... sessions."

"I thought these sessions were about me - not you and me."

"It's complicated."

"So what, we have to be friends?"

"Not in the least, but mutual respect would be appropriate."

Booth nearly laughed. "Then I guess you better keep Tuesdays and Thursdays at noon open for me for a long damned time." He started to leave.

"Why me, Booth? Why did you choose me? It wasn't mandated by the FBI, so why me? There are other psychologists. There are psychologists that are outside the FBI which would be much more conducive to keeping your confidentiality. So when you decided to talk to someone, why did you pick me?"

Booth took a deep cleansing breath. "Frankly, I knew I wouldn't have to rehash my history and I knew that you would never be able to get me to say or do anything that I didn't want to do."

"So I was easy and you could manipulate me - intimidate me."

"Your words, Sweets." Booth left. He hated his sessions with Sweets. He knew too much, so he asked some pointed questions. But beating him up, bullying the poor kid was really beginning for feel spiteful and unproductive. He had hoped he could stop now that Elizabeth was gone, but apparently that wasn't going to happen. He still wasn't sleeping, but the dreams were less debilitating. Maybe he should open up to Sweets.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Booth was back, Baby. Back in major crimes. He didn't get an office, was stuck in the bull pen. He expected that he would have to prove himself again, but it wouldn't be long before he was back one hundred percent. They partnered him with Perotta. He would have preferred to work alone, but at least it gave him an easy excuse for why he wasn't working with Brennan. The squints at Jeffersonian lab had been working with various agents. They weren't just for Booth any more. However, it was a given that he and Brennan and the rest would be working together in some way or other. He needed to give her the heads up, but didn't want to do that at the lab or just arrive at a crime scene. He found her coming out of palates. How he knew that she was in palates just proved that he still had it.

"Can we get some coffee, juice or something?" he asked.

She resisted. "I need to get back to the lab."

"Five minutes ... just some coffee." He nodded to a coffee cart on the side of the street suggesting that they could talk on the street, on a bench, something quick.

She wasn't sure she wanted another confrontation with him, not after her last encounter with Elizabeth. "Ok."

He ordered her coffee for her just as she had always taken it. It was nice that he remembered, but she didn't drink coffee much anymore. They took a bench away from the street and sat with as much space between them as they could get. "I wanted you to know that I have requested a transfer back to major crimes and it has been approved." He waited for a reaction though he didn't really expect one. "Perotta is my partner." Again he waited for a reaction, but none came. "I'm not sure how much we will be working together, but I wanted you to hear it from me."

"I understand." She nodded. "I have been offered a position at Stanford."

It hadn't occurred to him that she would leave again. "And you are considering it?"

"I am ... I trained to be an anthropologist, not a forensic scientist for the FBI."

"You can be anything you want to be, Temperance."

Every time he used her name it hurt her. Why didn't he call her _**Bones**_ anymore? "That is nice of you to say."

"Ok look ... this isn't going to work." He shifted his position so he could face her. "I don't do the egg shell thing ... well I do ... but not well. In all likelihood we will be working together in some capacity."

"Not if I take the position at Stanford, and there will be lectures and other opportunities I can take."

He was annoyed. He needed to apologize, but the words and the sentiment wouldn't come. "Look Temperance there is no reason why we can't work together."

"I disagree," she stated coldly. "It is naive to think that the events of the past year, the time apart, the things said, the things not said can just be ignored or won't have an effect on a partnership, a friendship or any kind of working relationship. The last time we spoke you made that pretty clear."

"Well, I was wrong. We can work together. You don't have to go to Stanford."

"You stated that working with me affected your relationship with -."

"Elizabeth broke off the engagement," he announced.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely.

Her sincerity softened him a bit. "Ya know, I am too ... but not enough and not for the right reasons."

"I don't understand."

"She was good for me, but I gave her nothing."

"I don't believe that."

"I wanted to move on so badly ... to get it all behind me ... it was selfish, inconsiderate – to her, to me and to …" He looked at Brennan wanting to say that it was inconsiderate to her as well, but he wasn't sure how she would take it. "I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought it would make a difference."

She wasn't sure if he was referring to getting past the injuries he suffered, the guilt he carried because of the incident or something else, maybe something that had to do with her, maybe all of it was so tied up together it was hard to pick out one thing. "Marriage would make a difference."

"You don't believe in marriage, long-term relationships, committing to someone for the rest of your life."

"I never said that."

"Repeatedly," he almost laughed.

"Well, maybe I did." Was it important to point out that her feeling may have changed on the subject? No, no it wasn't. "But you do."

"I'm not so sure any more." He paused looking for the right way to explain something that he wasn't sure he fully understood. "Maybe I finally agree with you. Maybe some people – maybe I am just not supposed to have that … that ... you know, American Dream ... more of an expectation. What did you call it a societal imperative to keep the masses in line."

"I don't believe I ever said that, I don't recall thinking it." She turned to look at him. "So now you believe that marriage is some sort of decree used by society to keep the individuals subservient? That doesn't make sense." That wasn't what he meant at all. "Why are you saying this?"

"All I am saying is that marriage and I are clearly not a good fit."

"You can't conclude that after one experience with being engaged?"

"Don't forget Rebecca," he pressed. "And you."

"Me?"

"And the rest," he added quickly as not to dwell on the state of their relationship. "Basically I can conclude that after twenty plus years of pretending that marriage was the goal and having nothing to show for it. In fact I have done everything possible to **not** meet that goal."

"I don't understand."

"I don't either; I mean I don't know why. I just know it's true. Sometimes facts have to be accepted whether you want to or not; whether you know the reason or not - you taught me that."

She shook her head. He was making huge intuitive leaps. "How did this theory come to you?"

"It was something Sweets said about choices. About the choices I have made in life in terms of careers and the women that I ... I have relationships with. I continue to choose careers and women that are not conducive to the 2.5 and a dog."

"2.5 and a dog?"

"You know: the white picket fence, minivan, soccer practice and meatloaf night – you know – normal." Brennan shook her head; she didn't know what normal meant. "Doesn't matter. Bottom line is that I choose jobs and women who are unavailable or uninterested in one way or the other in that life. That has to say more about me than the jobs or the women. I am the common denominator."

"That is a reasonable conclusion." She considered for a moment. "However, Elizabeth can change that. You changed your career to be more stable and you chose a woman who you could have the picket fence, the dog, the meatloaf."

"And yet I let it slip through my fingers," he stated. "Look at me now. Back in major crimes and alone - also my choice." He glanced away briefly. It was actually Elizabeth who left, but he did nothing to stop her.

"I am sure that if you open a line of communication with Elizabeth you could get her to change her mind."

"Yeah, cause I am so persuasive like that," he joked. "In the end, she is still in love with her husband."

"Husband?"

"So maybe she was another choice that was safe."

"Husband?" she asked again.

"He died six years ago in Iraq. She talks to his family every day, more than she does her own. That is where she is right now, with her sister-in-law in San Diego. I am not sure why she said yes to me, but it has been clear for a very long time that neither one of us were going to follow through. We were just going through the motions and pretending that we could each move on together." While that wasn't exactly true, it was a way of interpreting the past few months to support his new theory about why he and marriage were not meant for each other.

Brennan flashed on her two conversations with Elizabeth; in the first she seemed genuinely concerned for Booth and in the second she seemed determined to hurt Brennan and claim Booth as hers. She wondered if Booth knew that side of Elizabeth. She wondered if he really knew what her feelings were. "I don't believe that. You are not the kind of man to make a promise and go back on it."

"No," he smiled thinking it was nice that she still thought that about him. "No, I would have gone through with it if she had pushed it. I would have been a faithful and conscientious husband, but that is not why two people get married. People don't stay with each other because they look good on paper. Look at Angela and Hodgins. They are a true love story and they don't make any sense."

"They do appear to be very happy and they did withstand a long separation only to find their way back to each other."

"Yes they did." Without thinking he asked his next question. "Do you think we can do the same?" He saw a terrified look on her face (or so he thought). "As partners."

"No," she stated almost too emphatically.

"Why?"

"Booth," she couldn't believe she had to say this out loud. "If you can find happiness and if that means we have to sacrifice our friendship – our partnership, I am willing to do that."

"I'm not."

"That has not been my impression for the past nine months."

"I know. I screwed up. There is so much I need to apologize for." Still not an apology.

"I won't come between you and Elizabeth," she stated. "Or any other woman that you feel you can make a life with."

"What are you saying? I just told you – she broke off the engagement."

Brennan shook her head. "You are still living together."

"She is in San Diego." He left out the part that the airline ticket was round trip and she would be back in four to six weeks.

"You can work it out - get married – be happy."

"First of all marriage does not mean happiness - you should know that."

"I don't want to go back into the field," she said definitively to end the discussion. "With you or anyone else so a discussion about reestablishing a partnership is moot." What she was really saying in too few words was that she didn't want to work with him, be his partner, if he was going home each night to a wife, fiancée or lover - not after everything they had been through, not with the feelings that were becoming impossible to deny.

"Look, nothing is going to happen today. Just think about it, OK? We will be working cases and if you think you want to join me in the field, then ... let's talk about it. Case by case, ok?"

"I won't."

"You might," he flashed her a charmed smile. "You were invaluable to our investigations and not just in the lab."

She nodded. "We were pretty good together."

"The best." His phone rang. "I need to take this."

"I need to get back to the lab."

"Right."

She smiled at him warmly. She wanted to applaud his decision even if that meant that she would have to leave, she was glad that he was trying to get back what he had before they left. It seemed like a better way to move on.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan had put the book away for a while after her conversation with Angela. Was there a way to give Andy and Kathy a happy ending? She needed time to think. It had been a couple of weeks since her confrontation with Elizabeth. Her words still weighed heavily on Brennan. Elizabeth had stated in the crudest possible way Brennan's worst fears. That whatever Booth was feelings was not love and never could have been. Further she implied that Brennan was unlovable. She tried to rationalize Elizabeth's comments and contextualize them in terms of a woman who was struggling in a relationship, but it was very unfair for Brennan to be the object of so much anger - Booth's and Elizabeth's. Andy and Kathy were not Booth and Brennan, but she still could not give them the sunset and the happily-ever-after that Angela wanted them to have. She just didn't have it in her. But maybe Andy didn't need to die.

She started the last chapter:

_**Kathy fired three shots in quick succession resulting in a tight cluster on the chest as she was trained to do. Lister would be impressed. She was becoming a more like a cop than a scientist. The man who shot her partner fell to the floor dead - presumably. He would never stand trial. He will never be held accountable for his crimes. The women he killed - their families will never know justice. There will be no jury of his peers, no appeals, nothing. He was dead. It was over.**_

_**Kathy sunk to her knees and then fell to the floor. The blood was draining from her body. The bullet must have nicked her femoral artery. No one knew she was there. There was no one around. She would die alone, but she had killed the man who killed her partner. That was enough – the ultimate sacrifice for her partner – and he would never know. No one would ever know.**_

_**Andy Lister opened his eyes. He was hooked up to monitors beeping out his life. "Kathy!" he called out. He sat up ripping off all the wires that were attached to him. "Kathy!" He tried to get out of bed, but fell to the floor. "Kathy!" he whispered before passing out.**_


	9. Chapter 9

A Bride for Booth

By LizD

Written May 2010 - July 2010

Chapter 8

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**Early September**

The team from the Jeffersonian, the FBI and the local authorities were working the crime scene. An SUV had exploded after ramming a city bus. It was unclear if it was a bomb or just a car fire. Brennan and Hodgins were working the SUV. Cam and the rest of the crews were working the bus. Perotta was already on scene when Booth rolled up. If Booth had a reaction to the damage it didn't show, but he had to have felt something. It was too similar to his experience in Afghanistan.

"This one is pretty bad Booth," she said looking a little green.

"I can see that." He turned to face her. "Shall I take lead?" She nodded. Booth had been working cases but mostly were old cases that still need to be cleared. This was his first active crime scene. He walked over to the SUV pulling out his notebook. Cam saw him and looked over at Brennan who was completely focused on her work. Hodgins made eye contact with Cam. "What have you got?" Booth asked matter-of-factly to no one in specific as if wasn't the first time in more than a year that he met them at a crime scene.

"Two bodies," Brennan stated. "The driver was male, mid to late thirties, Caucasian. The passenger was female, 20-25, also Caucasian."

"That's it?" he asked gruffly.

"Injuries consistent with a vehicle accident, explosion and burns." A chill went down Booth's spine. Brennan of course spoke dispassionately. Presumably the similarities to Booth's incident were lost on her. They weren't. "There are no indicators that either victim braced for impact. The driver drove purposefully into the bus."

"How do you know that?"

"No skid marks," Hodgins stated.

"That's it?"

"The driver is in the military. He appears to be in the uniform."

Booth stepped closer and looked at the driver. The ribbons and metals were all charred, but the insignias were clear enough. The guy was a SEAL. "Navy. Great NCIS will be crawling all over this one looking to take jurisdiction. We need to move fast on this case. What else do you have?"

"Nothing." Brennan stood up, kept her eyes off Booth and snapped off her gloves. "Until we can get them back to the lab, anything more would be conjecture." She turned to Hodgins. "Make sure you get everything you need before you transport, Ok Jack?"

"Sure," he said.

Brennan walked toward the truck. Booth was about to demand to know where she was going when he just told them that they had to work fast. He turned his attention to Hodgins. "What can you tell me about the explosion? Was it a bomb?" He glanced after Brennan quickly. "Hodgins?" As Hodgins described what he had found but Booth was keeping his periphery on Brennan. He saw her remove her jumpsuit while giving instructions to some kid that looked terrified. Her car pulled up with Geoffrey Winthrop Pearce driving. He was urgently waving her into the car. She comfortably slid into the passenger seat and they sped off. Booth asked Hodgins to repeat a couple of things and asked when he would get more definitive results.

Cam came over and informed him about the situation in the bus: four fatalities - kids from a college basketball team, the rest (seven other passengers and the driver) were in the hospital. Booth kept taking notes and asking questions that she had already answered. "She wasn't supposed to be here at all," Cam stated out of the blue. "That is why she left. She was supposed to be on a plane an hour ago."

"Who?" Booth was a very bad actor.

"Tempe," Cam said.

"Brennan and I are fine, Cam," he stated.

"She was on her way to a banquet in her honor in Boston, but pushed her flight a few hours so she could be the first on the scene."

"I am sure you and the rest of the squints can handle this on your own."

"Dr. Pearce is just a colleague," she said. "I'm sure he would like to be more."

"Yeah, know how that goes," he said under his breath but to Cam he said, "Can we just stick with the case?"

"Listen Booth, I have known you a lot of years and I know you have been through some stuff recently that I can't begin to appreciate. We used to be friends so I am going to give you some unsolicited advice: shutting people who care about you out of your life is no way to live."

"What are you talking about, Camille?"

"Jared tells me that you haven't seen him since you came home. You are letting Rebecca take Parker to Montreal. You refuse to take my phone calls. You are back in major crimes, but this is the first case you have worked in the field?"

"Not that it is any of your business, but I have been doing clean up on several cases that remained unsolved and I have a fiancée who takes a great deal of my time."

"Don't lie to me Booth, it is so … not you. Elizabeth is in San Diego and has been for more than three weeks."

"How do you **think** you know that?"

"Probably didn't know this, but Michelle sometimes babysits for Parker - she has for the past year or so. They have become quite close."

"I don't need you spying on me through my son, Camille."

"You need something, _**Seeley**_, 'cause what you are doing now ain't working." She waited for him to reply which he had no intention of doing. Then she decided to go all in. "And what you did to Tempe is unforgivable."

He was frustrated and angry; he wasn't the villain and _**Tempe**_ was no innocent victim. "When did _'Dr. Brennan'_ become _'Tempe'_?" he asked.

"She has changed Booth, not that you gave her a minute to show you, but she has changed. Still exacting, dedicated and focused - a bit peculiar, socially awkward - but she has changed. You would probably not recognize her - on the other hand, I wonder if you ever really knew her at all. I told you. I tried to warn you. If you cracked that shell and changed your mind you'd crush her."

"I didn't," he protested.

"Elizabeth?" With that Cam strode away.

Booth felt scolded. They didn't understand. No one understood. He hated that people had information about him that he didn't want them to have.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Hours later Booth and Perotta walked into the lab. All the squints were up on the platform working. Perotta never warmed up to them or they her. Brennan was on a Web Conference call with them discussing the findings so far. He couldn't see her, but he heard her voice. Booth approached the platform but couldn't go up; he no longer had a badge. There were six bodies laid out on gurneys. That stopped Booth in his tracks. Six bodies. Six sets of remains. Six people who were burned beyond the point of recognition and needed to be identified by dental records, jewelry, dog tags. His heart started to pound, his breathing got shallow, he felt light headed. "_**Intercept! GO! GO! GO!"**_ There was a ringing in his ears, a sharp pain in his back and his skin was hot - burning hot.

"Booth" Angela called his name loud enough to bring him back to present. She was standing next to him. "Booth, are you OK?"

He turned to look at her and it took him a minute to focus. "Yeah, Yeah I am fine."

"Booth," Hodgins called. "We got something for you. Not a bomb, at least not in the traditional sense."

He followed Angela up the steps and saw Brennan on the monitor. He almost didn't recognize her; her hair was different - softer. Everything about her was softer. She still was the most beautiful woman he had ever known in real life.

"Good work, Jack. That is really, really good work, everyone," she said. "I will be back late tonight and we can start on the reconstructions in the morning." It was hard to tell, but there was a brief moment when she was looking at Booth and he was looking at her. It wasn't really eye contact as there were too many web cams and monitors to consider. "Thank you. I'll see you in the morning." She clicked off her webcam.

All eyes turned to Booth who was looking at the monitor that had just switched off. He quickly recovered and looked back down at his notepad. "So, if not a bomb, what?" he asked as if there weren't a 600 pound gorilla in the room.

"Propane," Hodgins stated. The back of the SUV has six five-gallon tanks in the back. One of them had a bullet hole."

"So what do you think, he blew up one of the tanks when he drove into the bus. So someone one the bus was a target "

"That is your area Booth," Hodgins reminded him. "We don't do the whys, just the whos, whats and hows. There is something else. There was also some camping gear, tent, sleeping bags, cooler of food and cook stove. They could have just been on their way out of town."

"So an accident."

"Just the facts, man. Just the facts."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan left the banquet early and flew back by herself. Luckily Geoffrey Windsor Pearce was more than happy to stay and accept all the accolades on her behalf. Frankly, she was hoping he would stay in Boston until it was time for him to go back to Oxford. He was becoming tedious and unnecessary. The paper was written. His constant cloying at her made her mean; she didn't like to be mean. He wouldn't take 'no' for 'NO.' She was regretting that one night in the jungle, the night she got the phone call from Booth. A night that had regrets on several fronts.

She was compelled to go because they were honoring Brennan and the team for their findings in Maluku. Brennan didn't understand why. What they learned did not have the overarching ramifications that were expected. Over the course of the first six to eight months, it was discovered that the remains discovered were not as a result of evolution of the species (as was posited in the first month by other researchers in the group), but was what she suspected: a first generation product of two disparate primates. It was a tangent, not a link in the chain. Eventually they did find the parents and two other siblings. The offspring were not viable. The died as significantly younger ages than their parents. It was determined that the parents remained together and died together long after their children were gone.

As Brennan's hypothesis was confirmed she found herself pondering the parents – the two disparate primates – who had created a new family unit. As an anthropologist her focus had always been on societies – how groups of people acted as a group and as individuals within the group: societal norms, customs, mores and their sway over the individual's actions. A strictly anthropological approach would not be useful; she had to expand her thinking. She had to expand it to include the psychology of each of the parents. She drew on all she had gleaned from Booth and Sweets to speculate on the motives. Two creatures had gone against the norms of each of their societies and built a new society – albeit a family unit – it was a new society. She questioned what would have prompted that action. Was it out of necessity? Where each of these individuals cast out of their respective groups and forced to bond for safety? She found nothing in the remains of the parents to suggest that they were not fine specimens of their respective species. How did they meet? Did one attempt to bring the other into his or her group and the couple was cast out? Or did they choose to be together, to mate and rear their offspring together? What would have motivated each to abandon everything they were taught to believe? What kind of impact did that have on the new unit? Were they an object of hate for the origin groups – since all known research had suggested that the origin groups were not friendly? Did the couple go off to this remote island by choice or out of necessity? How did they communicate? How did they relate? It was a fascinating to ponder the possibilities. Could these two beings have left everything and built a new life for love?

With so much down time, Brennan turned all this positing inward and the choices she made in life. She found she envied the couple as she envied her parents who also turned away from society to form a solitary group. She envied their tenacity, and their commitment to go on in the face of what must have been very real challenges. She found that she was very disappointed in herself for being so afraid. Brennan would never do that – she would never walk away from everything she believed. In the end she had to think that she was more alone than these creatures were.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Booth woke with a start. He had only fallen asleep a short while ago. He was doing everything that Sweets was telling him to do: no caffeine, lots of physical activity, no heavy food or alcohol after 8PM. Since Elizabeth left he had been getting close to four to five hours of sleep a night, but only if he slept in the living room on the couch. Being back on major crimes and having several cases open to work on helped. His routine was to get up when he woke up and start his day. The good news about that was that he got the gym to himself typically at that hour of the morning, and he was at work before everyone else. Looked good to the boss. That morning he decided to go to the lab to see if any squints were working late or had come in early. He fully expected Brennan to be there.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan was back at the lab before 4AM. She was alerted to some anomalies that she wanted to look into before the others arrived. Around 6AM, she was in the bone room studying the female passenger of the SUV. The skull had been badly damaged from the collision with the bus and the subsequent explosion but there was more damage. Brennan was still not convinced that it was anything more than an accident, but there was something about the female passenger that stood out to her. The damage to her skull was not consistent with either a head injury from a vehicle accident, from the explosion or fire. She had been shot.

"Temperance?" Booth called from the doorway.

It took her a moment to refocus her eyes and realize who it was. It has been a while since she really looked at him. He looked like hell. "Booth, what are you doing here? Still not sleeping?"

"Some, more than I had been." Normally he would take offense to her stating so mater-of-factly an intimate embarrassing detail in such a cold and seemingly unaffected manner. That morning however it was nice to know that she had any intimate details about him at all. "Big case; thought I would get a jump on it."

"Agent Perotta?" Brennan asked about his partner.

"Sleeping probably ... didn't call her." Booth didn't consider Perotta a partner and if he had his way, he would keep her running down leads without him.

"I'm not sure we have anything more for you in terms of identification, but it looks like the passenger of the car had been shot. She was probably dead at the time of the explosion."

"Probably?"

"I can't be sure until we run some more tests. It could have only been moments before the explosion not more than an hour." She dropped into some scientific explanation that left Booth holding on to every other word. "We should have the results for you by late morning."

"Great." He hesitated; he hadn't come for news on the case. "Thanks," he said casually.

"What for?" She was focusing on the skull.

"For working this case, for being at the crime scene, for coming back from Boston early."

"Do you imagine that I am doing this for you?" she asked calmly still focusing on her work.

"For the past three weeks you haven't spoken to me at all. I walk into a room and you leave. I ask a question and you have one of your people answer it." She didn't respond. "Does it really need to be like that Temperance?"

"I suspect in a few weeks it won't."

"What does that mean?"

"Stanford has re-extended their offer and the Jeffersonian is willing to release me from my contract after the publication of the Maluku findings."

"Is that really what you want?"

She looked up at him. "It is probably what is best."

"Best for you?" he asked. She turned back to her work. "Temperance," he called to her gently. "I'm sorry."

"I understand."

"Well I wish you would explain it to me," he said only half joking. He reached out to touch her arm but she stepped back before he could. She did look up at him. "Really ... I'm sorry."

"Accepted," she said flatly.

"Thank you," Booth knew that that was all he was going to get from her. When they got back a little more of their relationship - which he had faith they would in time - he could apologize a little more specifically.

"Hey guys, what are you doing up so early." Angela stepped into the room and was sorry she did as both Booth and Brennan looked like they had been or were about to be in a very deep discussion. "We have IDd the driver." She produced a picture of a 40ish white male in a Navy Commanders uniform with a 25ish blonde female in a wedding dress. "Meet Commander Norman Barr and his lovely wife Charlotte Edwards Barr."

"Navy, I knew it." Booth shook his head and sighed. He took the picture from Angela. "Great, and a JAG Lawyer as well as a SEAL."

"Why should that matter?"

"There is no way to keep NCIS out of this now. I wonder why they aren't here already."

"Well," Angela went on. "If it means anything he retired three months ago just after he got married."

"Nope, NCIS will still fight for this." He pulled out his phone.

"There is one more thing. One of the kids from the bus who has been listed as missing is named Jacob Edwards."

"Charlotte's brother?"

"I don't think so," Angela said. "I did a little checking, and Jacob Edwards and Charlotte Edwards were married two years ago."

"Ex-husband? Well at least now we have motive." Booth dialed.

"Well that is more than a coincidence," Brennan said. "But we shouldn't make intuitive leaps. We do not know for sure that the passenger is Charlotte Barr and we are not sure that any one of those other bodies is Jacob Edwards. But very good work Angela."

Booth snapped the phone shut. "Too early. I have to go."

"Where?"

"To see if NCIS has gotten wind of this yet and how many strings I am going to have to pull to keep this case." He stormed off. "Good job, Ange," he called back over his shoulder. "I need confirmation on the ID on the passenger and anything you can get on those kids on the bus."

Angela stepped up to Brennan. "Love it when he gets possessive." Brennan just looked away. "So, what were you two talking about when I came up? It looked pretty intense."

"Then I wonder why you interrupted in," she snapped.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," she backed off. "Next time put a sock on the door."

Brennan didn't know what that meant. "No, Ange ... I'm sorry." It surprised Brennan how relieved she really was that they had been interrupted but she still wasn't prepared to discuss her relationship (whatever it was) with anyone including Angela.

"What does _**Elizabeth**_ think of Booth working with us again?"

"Elizabeth has called off their engagement."

"Just the engagement or the whole relationship?"

"Just the engagement."

"Ya think? You know she has been in San Diego for three weeks."

"Is this considered gossip?"

Angela shrugged. "Sure."

"Then I don't like it. Booth has been through a lot; he deserves to have his privacy respected. He won't find that if he discovers that his personal life is subject to office gossip."

"Ok, sure." Angela was more interested in what she was not saying. Clearly Brennan and Booth were talking about more than just his broken engagement. "Is he OK?" she asked earnestly.

Brennan looked toward the exit where Booth had just been. "I think he is starting to get back to where he was."

"And you two?"

Brennan had some things to think about on that score, but wasn't ready to disclose anything. "We need to get back to work. Find out what you can about Charlotte and Jacob Edwards and let's see if we can confirm an ID."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan should have been working the case, but she had the start of her next chapter. It should have been the final chapter, but there was a plot development that she wanted to follow.

_**Kathy woke in the ambulance with a young EMT working on her. The siren was blaring and they were driving very fast through traffic - weaving back and forth. **_

"_**Dead?" she said hoarsely.**_

"_**Not if I can help it," he smiled down at her. "She's awake," he called to the driver. "You have lost a lot of blood." She nodded. "We are on the way to the hospital." She nodded again. "Dr. Reichs, do you know what happened?" Kathy nodded slightly. "Who was there with you?"**_

_**The name had escaped her - the name of the killer. She couldn't remember his name. "Lister," she croaked out. **_

_**"Lister?" the EMT repeated.**_

_**"Agent Andy Lister, FBI." The name felt right but something was wrong. What had the EMT asked her?**_

_**The EMT called up to the driver. "There was an FBI Agent on scene," he shouted. "Call the police and tell them to look for FBI."**_

_**"No," Kathy shook her head. "Salt, Jackson Salt ... I shot him. I killed him. Serial Killer."**_

_**"There was no other body there, Dr. Reichs." He leaned over to check on of the IVs. "It was just you, but there was a lot of blood from someone else."**_

_**They pulled into the Emergency entrance and the EMT jumped out shouting out her vitals to the doctors who met them. Kathy couldn't focus on anything except that there was no other body found. Could Salt have survived? She knew she hit him with three rounds in the chest. Dead Center. The Ten Ring. Could he have had a vest on? There was blood, a lot of it. Where was the body? Her last thought before passing out was that it was not over. Salt was still alive. **_


	10. Chapter 10

A Bride of Booth

By LizD

Written May 2010 - July 2010

Chapter 10

A/N: Gonna be a mini-crossover with NCIS, but not to worry if you don't watch the show. It really won't matter.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Booth walked into the lab several hours later. "We lost it," he announced to the room. "NCIS claimed jurisdiction." The squints kept working including that one terrified kid he saw at the crime scene.

"Beg to differ with you Big Man," said Cam. "You don't have the latest intel."

"What am I missing?"

Hodgins laughed. "Dr. Temperance Brennan," he stated from behind his microscope. "Kind of scientist meets pole dancer."

"What?" Booth was confused. "Where is Brennan?"

Cam walked over to him so she could keep her voice down. "You will probably be getting a call any minute."

"What happened?"

"She was incredible. She convinced NCIS to let us keep working the case."

"How did she do that?"

"She charmed him. I have never seen her like that. She convinced him that we were the best and by moving the evidence to his labs he would lose valuable time; time that he didn't want to waste."

"He bought that?"

"I think he liked her. She was - as I said - charming."

"We got played."

"Maybe, but we are still working the case."

"You are."

"Oh no ... we're a package ... the Jeffersonian and the FBI - namely one Special Agent Seeley Booth."

He noticed a couple of new people on the platform with visitor badges. "Who is that with Clark?"

"NCIS ME," Cam replied. "Dr. Mallard. And that is Abby Sciuto with Hodgins ... not sure what she does ... kind of everything."

"NCIS sent their squints to work with my squints?"

"Well, actually they are my squints, but I like your attitude."

He didn't believe it. "Where is Brennan?"

"She went to the Commander's house ... with the agent in charge." Booth pulled out his phone to call her. "I think he let her drive," Cam added with a grin.

"What?" Booth's phone rang while he was dialing. He really needed to put her back on speed dial.

"That will be Tempe, telling you to meet her at the house."

He clicked over to take the call. "Booth ... I'll be there in 10." He snapped it closed. "I don't get it."

"You will ... have fun. Play nice with NCIS."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Booth rolled up on the scene and Brennan was talking to that scared squint again. Didn't he just leave that kid in the lab? It was about time Booth found out who this kid was but it would have to wait until he found out just what the hell was going on. He was about to call her name when someone clapped him on the shoulder.

"You would be Special Agent Booth, FBI, correct?" Booth turned to looked at a man about 20 years his senior. There was a sly smile on the old man's face. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS." Booth took his hand and firmly shook it. "So, this is your _**squint**_ _**squad**_, huh?" He nodded toward Brennan and the kid who had just exited the house. "I have my own techs, but after meeting your Dr. Brennan, thought I would see how the other half lived." He tapped his note pad with a pen. "She is something alright: smart and focused."

"Yes, the Jeffersonian gets the best of the best."

"Loyal to you too," he stated.

"We have been working together for six years."

"Except for last year," Gibbs stated. "You went active again ... got blown up and you just got back on your feet ... I mean literally, this is your first case back." Booth didn't respond but he didn't like that this Gibbs person had checked him out. "Your girl over there has been back for a while now ... guess she didn't discover the missing link or she wouldn't be doing forensics for the FBI now would she?"

"You've been busy," Booth commented.

"I do my homework," he said. "Don't like to share jurisdiction - and never with anyone I don't know."

"So why did you?"

"To be honest, I couldn't pass up a chance with your girl. One of the most beautiful women I have ever met in real life. I normally go for red heads, but for her I'd make an exception. Think she is ready to join the Navy? It's not just a job, it's an adventure, and she looks like she would enjoy adventures." 

Booth didn't like the way Gibbs was talking about Brennan. He didn't like that Gibbs kept referring to as 'your girl' but he also knew that Gibbs was just pressing buttons. "Dr. Brennan is the best there is," he said proudly knowing Gibbs didn't stand a chance in hell of luring Brennan away from the Jeffersonian or the FBI.

"We'll see. Don't think my people won't be backstopping your people. In fact they are at your lab now."

Booth nodded. "Why do you want this case?" Booth asked. "Commander Barr was retired."

"Was he?" Gibbs said enigmatically. Gibbs was not about to give away too much.

"Booth!" Brennan called over to him. "Booth!"

"Excuse me," he said.

"What's yours is mine, Booth." Gibbs reminded him.

"Same to you." Booth walked slowly over to her making notes on his pad. He really wasn't writing anything, but didn't want Gibbs to know that. "Dr. Brennan," he said loudly. "What have you got?"

"Why are you shouting?" She lowered her voice, "I assumed that you don't want him to overhear -."

"I don't, it was for show," he hushed his voice. "What are you doing?"

"You wanted to keep this case, didn't you?"

"I didn't want to take on NCIS as a partner in this."

"Trust me, we are not partners." She smiled over at Gibbs. "You will need to hear this too," she said to him.

Gibbs pretended like his phone rang, answered it and turned away.

"What the hell is going on here?" Booth asked.

"That NCIS agent thinks he is playing me, he doesn't know me very well."

"Maybe I don't either."

She pulled him further away. "Commander Barr didn't retire, he was dishonorably discharged. Angela found all kinds of information about him. He was the subject of an open investigation by NCIS and NSA. In fact, he was probably on your Terrorism watch list."

"She needs to be careful with that stuff." He glanced back at Gibbs quickly. "Investigated for what?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "Angela just told me in the car and since Agent Gibbs was sitting next to me, I couldn't ask."

"I'll make a call," he pulled out his phone and dialed. "Did he really drive over here with you? I mean he let you drive." Booth realized that that did not come out the way he meant it so he tried to recover. "He doesn't know you very well," he grinned awkwardly.

She shook his comment off. "I can tell you something else that Agent Gibbs doesn't know ... Commander Barr probably didn't know. He was dying." She dropped into her SUPER SQUINT mode and described all the things she found in his body that added up to the fact that he was riddled with cancer but showed no signs of being treated. "He would have been dead in a month."

"So now you think it is suicide?"

"I don't speculate, I gather evidence. You do the speculation." She smiled. "That's what we do."

"No, we gather evidence and we posit hypotheses," he corrected. Her smile broadened. "What?" he asked confused by her apparently joy.

"This is fun," she whispered.

"Fun?" He was confused. "Six people are dead and how many more in the hospital, we are fighting over jurisdiction and you think a pissing contest with NCIS is fun?" 

"I'm sorry," she relented. "I just meant piecing the clues together and working ... you know ... together. I mean out of the lab."

"Yeah?" He was encouraged that she was encouraged, but he was still annoyed.

"Look Booth, I know that this is serious and not a game." She dropped her smile. "I have six bodies in my lab to prove that." She took a deep breath. "The main reason I want this case is that I don't believe that NCIS cares about anyone but their commander. Agent Gibbs just wants to save the face of the Navy. I believe something else happened here. I believe that it involves Charlotte Barr and Jacob Edwards and I think they deserve our full attention. So I am sorry if you thought I was making light of the situation. I am sorry if you thought that I thought that this was a _pissing contest_. I know better." Her eyes wet with unshed tears. "There was a time when you knew that about me."

Booth felt slapped. He did know that about her. He was just so out of step, so off his game and the case was rapidly getting out of his control. "Temperance ..." He didn't know how to apologize.

"Let's just go back to work, OK?" She shook her head getting herself back into work mode. "We will find nothing here, NCIS has already been here. They took the computer and anything else that pertains to Commander Barr. But I think we should focus on the wife and the Jacob Edwards - Hodgins and Clark Edison will be there as soon as they can get a warrant."

"Warrant? Where? Who?"

"Edwards house. We called Caroline when we couldn't get a hold of you."

"No, No, no … call them back. They don't go out into the field. All squints stay in the lab unless accompanied by me, OK. It is the rule … Booth's rule. You know that." She nodded. Scolded twice in one conversation, it wasn't much fun anymore. He softened his approach. "Ok look ... no going around me any more OK?"

"Ok."

"You just keep passing information only to me, and I will be the gatekeeper of what NCIS gets or doesn't get, OK?"

"Doesn't NCIS have a legal right to what we find?"

"Yes … so … answer pointed questions, give nothing more than what is asked."

"Fine." She turned to walk away.

He stopped her with a touch to her arm that sent shock waves though each of them. Their eyes met and he quickly pulled his hand away. "Temperance ... I'm sorry. I am a little off kilter. I'm sorry."

"There was a time when we didn't need to apologize so much," she observed.

"We'll get there too, OK ... just a little time. OK?" He smiled sweetly. "Just to get back in the swing, it has been awhile." She nodded.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

The sun was well up on the West Coast. Elizabeth had been up all night with the baby to give her poor sister-in-law one night of sleep. She had been there for three weeks. It felt like home. She felt safe, loved and happy. She had barely seen her own mother and sister, spending most of her time with the Darrow family - her husband's family. When she told them about Seeley they were all happy for her - genuinely happy. They did not view the relationship as forgetting William. They all knew how much Elizabeth and William loved each other - it was a fairy tale story that ended tragically. She deserved to try to find some happiness with someone else. When she told them that she had broken off the engagement, they all seem genuinely sorry. They loved her too much to see her keep her life so unfulfilled because of her love for their dead son & brother.

"So who are you running from?" asked Clancy Darrow Lee, William's sister.

Elizabeth thought for a moment before she spoke. "I'm not sure."

"Will wouldn't have wanted you to spend your life alone."

"I don't feel alone," she protested. "He is with me all the time – and I have all of you."

"Must be hard to be with your fiancée if Will is in bed with you."

"It is not like that ... and we are no longer engaged." It hadn't occurred to Elizabeth before but her sister-in-law had a point. Booth wasn't the only one to bring baggage to bed.

"You will be going back in a couple of weeks - or sooner - regardless of what you call yourselves, you are still sleeping in the same bed."

"Only one of us sleeps," she said sadly. "He was not ready to make a life time commitment and I should have known that. He is still recovering."

"What about you? Have you recovered?"

"Sometimes I think I have, sometimes I think I don't want to. I won't ever forget William - he is still my husband. Is that fair to do to any other man?"

"It would take someone pretty special to accept that - so maybe you should try to let that go." Elizabeth shook her head. "You can't move back here with your new husband, it wouldn't be fair to him."

"Are you saying that you wouldn't accept him?"

"Of course we would ... we love you, and if he could make you happy ... then he is part of the family. But it would put him in a very awkward position. You need to put him first."

"I don't know if I can do that. I don't know if I will ever be ready to do that. I had ten years with William - ten glorious years. It is more than most people get. Do I have a right to ask for that again?"

"Yes."

She shook her head. "I just wish -" She let her thought go. She never wanted to regret not having William's child. It was the right decision for them to make the number of times they made it. Even when he deployed to Iraq, they both knew that he might not come back, but Elizabeth didn't want to raise their child alone. That decision she did regret.

"You have almost had that much without him."

"I know ... and someday I will find someone, but Seeley is going through some stuff."

"Why not Seeley?" she said. "He asked and you said yes ... there has to be something."

"I'm just not convinced that Seeley is the right one - or it is the right time. There is something else that I can't put my finger on. He never told me why he went back into service. I think something motivated him more than to serve his country and given what happened while he was there, I can assume that there is more crap to deal with now that he is back."

"You said he was seeing a therapist - let them work it out."

"I am, but if working it out means he needs to deal with what came before, where do I fit in? He barely tells me anything about what went on before. I have to figure it out. And won't my being there complicate his recovery? It is not fair to him."

"What about fair to you? He made decisions before he met you. Fine. He can deal with them; he can live with them. But he also made decisions with you. He will live with those too. I want you to be very selfish. Can you see spending the rest of your life with Seeley?"

"He is a very good man. He is an excellent father. I am not sure how good a husband he would be." She looked at her sister-in-law. "He would never cheat on me, but he is petty focused on his job and that job can be pretty time consuming particularly because he has gone back to major crimes."

"Cops get married. Cops have families."

"And Cops divorce - at a higher rate than most and there is a reason for that. I am not sure I want to be a cop's wife."

"What about that partner ... the scientist ... is she an issue?"

"Dr. Temperance Brennan," Elizabeth said with a smile. "She is the one who writes those books. You know the Bone books – serial killers and the like."

"Not much into those kinds of novels."

"Me either. I have only met her a couple of time. Very odd Duck that one. She doesn't seem like Seeley's type - kind of cold, analytical, distant."

"Were they - involved?"

"No ... at least they both say no, but there is something between them if only in Seeley's mind. I still think she bats for the other team."

"Seriously?"

"She says no, but it wouldn't be the first time someone lied about being gay."

"What went on between them?"

"They were partners for five years - and they both say it was nothing more. They are close or were close - very close."

"How close?"

"Says that she was his partner and that has lifetime implications that I wouldn't understand. Says that if she were ever in trouble, he would help her." Elizabeth left out the killing and dying part. "But I don't think she will be invited to dinner anytime soon. I don't think she will be his best man at the wedding."

"Sounds like more than partners to me, but then again, I am not a cop and don't know what they have been through together. What about her? Is she going to be an issue?"

"She already is - but it is not really her fault." Elizabeth had some time to think about her conversation with Brennan. She reinforced her opinion that it wasn't Brennan's fault that Seeley was distracted by her, it was his. Something else he needed to deal with. "That is why I believe they never slept together." Elizabeth laughed. "I pretty much gave her permission the last time I talked to her. Told her it was something that Seeley needed to get out of his system."

"How did that go over?"

"Not well. I was pretty mean."

"I find that hard to believe."

"I was very mean."

"Do you think she will do it? I mean will they?'

"No, I doubt it. Seeley is really not the one night stand kind of guy and after years of focusing his energy on one person, one night won't resolve it."

"So you gave them permission and left town ... do you really think he will be there when you get back?"

"That is the question isn't it?"

"You are playing with fire, girl. If you think you can make a life with him, if you want that life - go fight for it."

Elizabeth considered for a moment. "You're right."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

"Thanks for dinner," Brennan said as she walked toward her car. She hadn't expected to be with him all day. The only reason she left the lab at all was to keep an eye on Gibbs. But as the day wore on she found that she liked working with him again. It felt right.

"Absolutely," he said casually. They had spent the day together working the case following leads up on Charlotte Barr. The warrant for Edwards place took a little longer than expected. They would hit that in the morning. It became much less awkward as the day went on. They were hitting a good stride. Dinner wasn't much really - some Moo Shu, hot and sour soup and a beer. It was quick and enough. The conversation at dinner was mostly about the case with only small safe topics like his son, her father, the heat that was too oppressive for September in Washington. "Good day, though huh?"

"Yes, very good. NCIS seems to be following their own leads and leaving us alone."

"Good," he smiled. "I don't like to share."

"You were pretty possessive with that Moo Shu tonight," she smiled.

"It was the first thing I ate all day," he defended. "They are still open; we could get you some to go." She shook her head. The smile on her face lit up her eyes. She was beautiful. "I don't think I told you, but I really like what you have done with your hair."

She nodded a 'thank you.' "I am going to head back to the lab."

"You aren't going to work are you?"

"No, just need to pick up my laptop."

He stretched and yawned. "I am wiped out. Think I will actually sleep tonight."

"Good, work seems to agree with you."

"You were right ... as per usual," he said in a friendly manner. "Should never doubt you."

"I'm not always right," she said with a tinge of remorse. They needed to take their leave but they didn't know how. It took them all day to find the good feeling they were sharing, if they separated anything could happen to disrupt that. "I should go," she said.

"Yeah, me too." He hesitated. "Can I drop you some place?"

"No ... I mean I have my car."

"Right, right ... of course." The both laughed nervously. "Guess it is gonna take us a while to get back into the swing of things."

"Seems that way."

"Right, well ... I have faith in us ... we are good together. Today proved that."

"Yes it did." She was glad that he said it first.

He needed to touch her. He wanted to hug her, hold her ... kiss her (just a kiss on the cheek or a chaste kiss on the lips), but that feeling was not right. He put his hand out to her. It was the safest thing. She took it easily. He pressed her fingers it and rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. "See you in the morning, huh?"

"Yeah, the morning."

He released her hand and stepped back taking in a full view of her. He smiled and nodded and turned and walked away. She watched him go. She was sorry she didn't say something else.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

_**FBI Special Agent Andy Lister sat by Reichs' bed. He was still hooked up to IVs but he wouldn't leave her. Reichs opened her eyes slowly. The pain in her head and the pain in her leg were unbearable. She groaned. Lister was by her side in a moment.**_

"Hey, hey ... don't move. Let me get the nurse." 

_**"Salt ... Salt is alive," she said. It hadn't registered that Lister was awake or more mobile than she was at the moment. **_

_**"We know. We got guys on it." He smoothed her hair back off her face. "You shot him though, and that is a fact. He lost a ton of blood."**_

_**"Three ... right in the ten ring," she told him. "He should be dead."**_

_**"Probably is." He stroked her face. "Bastard probably crawled away into a hole to die."**_

_**"Pain," she croaked out.**_

_**"Let me get the nurse." He reached over to hit the call button for the nurse. "You just lie still." He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Thank God, you are going to be Ok."**_

_**"You too," she returned. **_

_**"Nothing is going to take us down, babe. Nothing." He kissed her again and leaned his forehead on hers. He said a little prayer thanking the powers that be for saving her.**_


	11. Chapter 11

A Bride for Booth

By LizD

Written May 2010 - July 2010

Chapter 11

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Elizabeth walked into their apartment. It was just as she left it. It didn't look as if the bed had been slept in. The food she had left in the refrigerator was still there. The ring was still on the table where she left it. What had Booth been doing? Where had he been sleeping? Eating? Living? Upon further examination she discovered that the bathroom had been used but cleaned. The chair by the window in the living room had been turned to face east. And the garbage contained day old take out boxes and several beer bottles. There was a blanket and a pillow neatly folded on the end of the couch. So he was living there, but making very little impact. That was not how he was when he was with her. When they were together, he enjoyed the little things in life: holding hands, music, a nice meal, making love. She was good for him. She grounded him. She kept him moving forward.

It was not a mistake to come home early and unannounced. It was not a mistake to have such hopes and expectations for them and a future. It was a mistake to leave in the first place; she never should have done that. She should never have given the ring back. She slipped it back onto her finger. She remembered the day they bought it. It was the day before he was to ship back to Afghanistan. She had said repeatedly that she didn't need a ring, but he had insisted that she have something tangible to remember him by. They went to the store on base. The selection was small, but they settled quickly on a very simple stone. He was very sweet and he seemed genuinely happy.

Elizabeth told herself again that she was good for him. They could be good for each other. He had already given her a life back that she never thought she would have again. He gave her hope for a future. It was time to make up for the past four weeks and set some goals for the future. They would be dining in that night and the conversation would be kept to the non-verbal variety. She had a lot to do before that evening, and she wasn't sure she wanted to wait that long.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Several hours later Booth and Brennan were walking into the Hoover Building. Booth was animated and smiling and talking very fast. Brennan also seemed quite pleased.

"That was incredible, Bones" he said walking backward in front of her so he could maintain eye contact. "How did you know? Seriously, how did you see it?"

She reached for his arm to pull him back closer to her and turn him in the direction they were walking so he wouldn't bump into the people around him. "It was obvious from his bone structure."

"To you maybe."

"It's what I do, Booth."

"And no one does it better." His eyes sparkled. Booth rang for the elevator. "I don't know how anyone does this job without you? I know I couldn't."

"To be honest you were the one that got me thinking about it."

"How's that?" They stepped in and the doors closed leaving them alone in the tiny space.

"That slip of the tongue he had about Charlotte. You heard that. You called him on it. You asked how close he and Edwards were. His answer was not forthcoming. He hedged. He looked down and away. You taught me to look for that."

"And from that you decided to do a bone scan … well a BONES scan?" he joked.

"Sure," she liked that he was so playful with her. "Will we have to tell NCIS?"

"What that Jacob Edwards tried to faked his death and probably killed his roommate? No, not until they ask."

"He could have been sincere when he said that he saw an opportunity and took it."

"Yeah, well … that is this guy's life story. Dishonorably discharged from the marines for stealing medical supplies. He should be in Leavenworth not walking the streets of Virginia."

"How long can we hold him without charging him?"

"Twenty-four hours, but I think I can find a charge that will stick in that time."

"Ironic that his ex-wife's husband was the one to get him off."

"More ironic that he is dead now and can't get him off again." Booth just grinned. "There is more to the story, Bones … A lot more to this story." Brennan couldn't contain her smile either. He was calling her _**Bones **_again. He hadn't done that in over a year. "What?" he asked. She shook her head not wanting to verbally point out that things were getting back to the way they were. "Come on, tell me," he cajoled.

"Nothing," she smiled again. The elevator doors opened and she stepped out.

He followed hard on her heals. "Awesome, Bones … just awesome. We are back, baby!" He offered her a fist bump which she took reluctantly.

She stopped in the hall forcing Booth to stop and turn back toward her. "So what is our next step?"

"We dig up everything we can on Edwards and the wife and the connection that Barr had with them. It could be your basic love triangle, but I think there is more to it. Edwards isn't going anywhere for a while."

"Won't NCIS find out that information?"

"Sooner or later … but I need the IDs on the rest of the victims – and the passenger. What if it is not Charlotte Barr? This could have been some elaborate plan from the beginning by Edwards to get them declared dead. And if one of those people is not Edwards' roommate then we may have another homicide to solve – at the very least missing persons." Brennan had stopped listening. She saw something – rather someone – over Booth's shoulder. "Bones," he waved his hand in front of her eyes. "Bones, are you listening to me?" She nodded to the person standing behind him. Booth turned and saw Elizabeth standing three feet away. He glanced back at Brennan and then back to his ex-fiancée. He looked surprised, embarrassed and a little caught.

"Hey stranger," she stepped toward him with a tentative smile.

"Elizabeth, I thought you weren't coming back for another two weeks."

"Came back early to surprise you," she explained. "Surprise."

"Yeah," he chuckled a little. He needed to greet her with a kiss or a hug or something, but he was paralyzed in front of Brennan. Finally she stepped forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He returned it quickly.

"I thought I could take you to lunch," she said glancing toward Brennan.

"Lunch?" Booth was thrown for a loop and didn't know how to respond.

"But I guess you two are in the middle of a case."

"Um, yeah, I mean no … yeah, we have this case …"

It was time for Brennan to speak. Her face was expressionless. No sign of how she was feeling was evident – to the people that didn't know her. A moment before she was smiling and bright eyed, but that was gone. She was completely deadpan. "No, no … Booth has time for lunch," she protested.

"Can you join us?" Elizabeth asked but clearly she didn't mean it.

"No," Brennan burst out. "I need to get back to the lab and get working on those IDs. We'll have that information for you this afternoon, Booth." She stepped back and luckily the elevator doors opened. "It was nice to see you again, Elizabeth," she said backing away. She knocked into someone who was getting off, but slipped in quickly and thankfully the doors closed and she was gone.

Booth had followed her with his eyes not knowing how to stop her. He turned back to Elizabeth. "Quite a surprise," he said.

"Yeah." She smiled. "I wondered if I should bother you at work, but then it wouldn't have been a surprise if I called first."

"Right. Right. The thing is ... surprises at the office are not really a good thing," he said walking toward his desk. "Never know what you will walk into the middle of and I pretty much need to stay focused. Usually I am out of the building at this time of day."

"I understand," she said. "I won't let it happen again."

"It's Ok … really. It's fine, just want you to know what to expect." He sat down at his desk and flipped though some folders that were left for him. "So you are back," he said not looking at her. "How was it?"

"Yeah," she sat down in his guest chair. "It was great to see everyone. Really great. The baby is gorgeous – a bit of a handful, but absolutely a sweetheart." She waited for some reaction – maybe even a question about how it might have affected her maternal instincts. They had talked around the topic of children before but never broached it head on. She got nothing from Booth; he was still scanning the files. "So, I thought we should talk."

"In the middle of this case," he reminded her and looked around the bull pen implying that they were not alone.

"We can talk at lunch." Her voice dropped and she leaned in and whispered to him, "or we could just run home for an hour or so." A sexy smile edged her lips. "I have missed you." She put her hand on his arm and he saw that she had put the ring back on.

"What?" He looked panicked. "No … I mean not 'no' but -."

"But you have this case," she repeated.

"Right," he said. "I mean 'no, not now'. But we do need to talk, but not at lunch."

She knew what was coming. She had given him an out and he took it. She knew there was a risk of that before she left, but she thought she had made up her mind to let things fall they way they were supposed to. She never expected that one conversation with her sister-in-law and the five hour flight back to Washington, thinking about Seeley and the life they would build together with a house, kids and a future would have taken such a firm hold. She wanted it more than she ever thought she would. "It's Ok, Seeley. I understand." She wondered if it - Seeley, the life, the future - were worth fighting for, waiting for – if maybe Seeley Booth with all his goodness and kindheartedness, was the husband for her. Looking into his kind eyes at that moment, she believed he was. "I'll see you at home," she said with renewed determination.

He heard a tone in her voice that sounded defeated or disappointed. "No, no … now come on. You can't surprise a guy like this – two weeks early - and expect him to be ready to talk at the drop of a hat."

"Right, No … I understand." Her mind was on their next meeting. "And you have this case."

"How about dinner, huh?" He reached out and took her hand. "I'll take you out for a great dinner and we will talk … all night if you want, OK?"

"Sure, that sounds nice." She stood up. "Or I can cook. Tonight, then. I'll let you get back to work." She turned to walk away.

"Hey," he pulled her back. "I am glad you came back." He didn't know why he said that, but it felt right.

"Me too."

He kissed her quickly. "I'll see you at home, OK?"

She forced a smile that returned his. "Ok. Be careful."

"Always." He watched her leave the bull pen. He should have walked her to the elevator. He sunk back down into his chair. He was confused – a minute ago all that was on his mind was the case. It was nice to be able to concentrate on ONE THING that wasn't confusing and messy. Not that the case was simple, but they didn't have all the information yet, but it was something to hold his focus. But she was back, back with an agenda that included him; he could barely concentrate – on anything. And the hurt, pain and disappointed look in Brennan's eyes nearly killed him. She had been so happy the moment before. "Oh God, what am I supposed to do," he muttered to himself. He looked down at his calendar. It was a Thursday. He couldn't go to lunch anyway, he had a meeting with Sweets that he was late for. "Great … just great." He ran off down the hall to find Sweets.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan sat in her car for a long time when she got back to the Jeffersonian. She felt like she was going to cry, but the tears would not come. Instead she tried to convince herself that she could still be partners with Booth even if he married Elizabeth, but she knew better. The job was demanding in terms of time and commitment; that wouldn't be good for the marriage. So he would have to leave major crimes and maybe even Washington and that would be the end of the partnership. However there were agents - Special Agents - who were able to work in major crimes and be married and have children and a partner. Maybe Booth was one of those, but Brennan didn't like the idea of restricting her access to Booth to allow for a wife. Part of their relationship that she had come to rely on was that he was always there for her. That would no longer be the case. There would be no late night Chinese, or post case cocktails. He would need to get home to be with her. On the other hand maybe they wouldn't get married. Maybe Elizabeth was back to say good-bye. Brennan scolded herself for being so selfish.

Brennan wanted to take solace in his words of a few weeks ago. He had said that he wasn't sorry enough for Elizabeth breaking the engagement implying that he was relieved that he was no longer engaged. He had said that he didn't want to be married, rather that he had concluded that marriage was not for him by the choices he had made in his life. He said that he wanted their partnership back. He had said he was not willing to sacrifice their partnership for his marriage. But he had said so many other things. Weeks before he implied that he still had feelings for her. Weeks before that he told her that she had affected his ability to do his job in Afghanistan. Months before he had banished her from his presence. A year before he had promised they would be together again. Before that he had said that he wanted to _**give them a chance**_. And then there were all the long silences where nothing was said at all. Silence can speak just as loudly - if not louder - than words. And then there were all the words said to other people, words like "will you marry me?" Those were words that could not be ignored but no solace could be found in them for Brennan.

"This is why interpersonal relationships are frustrating and confusing at best," she said to herself. "I don't need this much consternation in my life. It is unproductive and very distracting. It is better to be alone."

She got out of her car and marched toward the elevator. By the time she reached for the button, the tears had come. She decided to take the stairs.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

"Booth," he barked into his phone. "Right, I am on my way." He snapped the phone shut and looked across at Sweets. "Thanks, this has been real helpful. But I have to go."

"I understand," he said. "I'm sure it is pertinent to some major case you are working on."

"SUV-Bus crash. Six, now seven people are dead. We just found the roommate stuffed into the trunk of a car."

"Sounds important," he said dryly.

"It is." Booth got to the door and looked back at the poor kid who was genuinely trying to help.

"I understand," Sweets assured him.

"Thanks, Sweets ... I mean ... you know."

"I know. I'll see you Tuesday."

"Right ... Ok," Booth felt compelled to say something to him. Their sessions had been superficial at best since he had been back at major crimes. And he was really grateful that Sweets hadn't brought up Brennan in all that time. "Can I ask you something?"

"Thought you had somewhere to be?"

"I do. I do. But," he paused. "Do you ever wish that you could just rewind your life to one moment and make a different choice?"

"That is magical thinking - sort of - and serves no real purpose as there is no way to rewind."

"Right," Booth didn't like that answer.

"But," Sweets stood up. "But I do think about how I can get back to that place ... to that one moment so I can make a different choice."

"I don't understand."

"If you view the moment you are referring to and all its surrounding conditions, the question becomes what do you have to do moving forward to get to that place again? Of course you have to keep in mind that you will never get back to the exact same place. You can't step in the same river twice."

Booth didn't like that answer either. "Right, perfectly clear. Thanks again Sweets," he said sarcastically.

"Booth," he called him back. "I have some time tomorrow ... since our session was so short today. Same time?"

Booth thought for a moment. Elizabeth was back. He and Bones had found their groove again. That night was going to be a tough one. Maybe he could use Sweets to figure it all out. "Yeah, Ok ... Sure. Thanks." He darted from the room. Sweets nodded and smiled. He might actually be getting through.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan has been in the bone room since she got back from the Hoover building. She was utilizing all that she had been given to confirm the IDs of the victims. She had confirmation on three of the bodies from the bus but was still working on the skull reconstruction from the passenger of the SUV. They had a DNA match that the victim was indeed Charlotte Barr. Brennan had concluded that the gun shot was self-inflicted but was continuing to work the reconstruction so they could piece together the chain of events.

"Bren?" Angela called from the doorway. "There was another fatality. Morgan Mitchell died a few minutes ago." Brennan sat back on her stool and sighed. "She was nine years old," Angela went on. "That is just too young to die senselessly like this."

"Yes it is."

"What is going on?" Angela stepped up to her and touched her shoulder. "You look like something happened."

Brennan didn't know how to respond. How could she say 'He called me _**Bones**_ and then Elizabeth showed up,' and not have Angela dig though everything. "Nothing, everything is fine."

"How was being in the field with Booth?"

"Fine."

"Fine? Just fine?"

"Yeah, it was fine … you know, we were bouncing ideas off each other."

"Bouncing ideas?"

"Well I figured out that Jacob Edwards' roommate was not actually the roommate it was Edwards himself."

"That is quite a revelation," she offered. "Wonder why he didn't just leave town when he had a chance." Brennan shrugged. "Didn't know that it would be discovered so quickly, I guess."

"I guess, but it was a mistake," she wasn't trying to listen to Angela. "Have you gotten any more information on Charlotte and Jacob's marriage?"

"Yeah, there was no divorce."

"So she was a bigamist," Brennan observed. "That is rare; usually it is the male who marries multiple times or maintains multiple sexual partners."

"Brennan?"

"There is evidence that higher testosterone levels correlate to the number of partners – sexually speaking – in men … and women too. Men seem to be able to do that more effectively in our society."

"Which has no bearing here because we don't know about the sex lives of our victims – or if they are victims at all – and we don't know if Charlotte was still having sex with her husband." Brennan nodded. "So Brennan … what is going on?"

"Nothing."

"Something happened with Booth."

"Nothing." She gave a warning glace to Angela. She turned her focus back to the skull in front of her. "Elizabeth is back."

"You saw her?"

"They are having lunch … had lunch, I don't know." She placed another bone in the skull. "I really need to finish this; Booth will be expecting results soon. So I will need a reconstruction to determine a possible scenario of what happened."

"OK … but I am not letting this go."

"Angela."

"Brennan … you and me … cocktails … tonight … lots of them."

Brennan's phone rang. "Brennan ... right, I'll be right down." She turned her phone off. "That was Booth. They found the body of Edwards' roommate in the trunk of a car. I have to go."

"Fine go ... but don't think you are getting out of tonight."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

It was very late when Brennan and Booth decided to call it a night. It was close to 9PM. Booth has missed his dinner with Elizabeth and Brennan had missed drinking with Angela - or so she assumed. Brennan sat at her desk rereading the page in front of her. She decided to stay at the office and work on her book rather than go home to an empty apartment. She didn't know when she started viewing her apartment as empty or when she suddenly started to feel alone in the world. There were more people in her life currently than they ever had been, but she felt alone. The cursor blinked at her as she read the page again. Brennan needed to know what would happen next. She really had no idea what would happen next. She hated when she wrote herself in to corners.

_**Kathy slowly let her eyes open and come to focus. There was a wretched smell. She couldn't remember clearly, but she thought she was in a hospital, or in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. The smell should not be of a sewage and urine. She tried to move hear arms, but she was pinned down. She tried to turn her head and felt incredible pain at the base of her skull.**_

_**"I wouldn't do that if I were you," came the voice of her nemesis. "Just lie still." She struggled harder. "LIE STILL," he ordered.**_

_**Keeping her head still, Kathy turned her eyes toward the direction from which the voice was coming. It took her a minute, but the face came into focus.**_

_**"Not dead," said Jackson Salt. "Not dead yet," he corrected. He didn't have a shirt on and there was a large bandage on his chest. He must have been wearing a vest. He nodded to a spot just next to her. "Neither of you," he added. "At least not yet." Kathy realized what Salt had been so please with. There was a body on a gurney. She could tell immediately that it was Lister, Special Agent Andy Lister. He was not dead, but he was not conscious either.**_


	12. Chapter 12

A Bride for Booth

By LizD

Written May 2010 - July 2010

Chapter 12

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Angela and Brennan sat on the edge of the pool with a quarter of a bottle of tequila between them. They weren't in bathing suits but they had been swimming - er - um - skinny dipping. Hodgins appeared from the house and brought out towels, robes and a plate of food.

"Ladies," he drawled when he got close averting his eyes from his boss if not his gorgeous wife. "Still pretty hot out, but you might want to think about calling it a night - it is after two AM."

"Isn't he sweet?" Angela ran her hand up his leg. "He is just so sweet." Brennan smiled and wished she were drunker, but the Tequila was not having the desired effect. "No Baby," Angela continued. "We are good. The water is nice."

"You do know that you can't mix Tequila and water, right? Unless they are both taken internally."

"We'll be fine, baby." She cooed back at him. "We'll stay in the shallow end."

Jack shook his head. "I'll be out of earshot, but until you are out of the water, I am not out of eyeshot."

Brennan stood up totally unconcerned with her state of undress. It was actually a little more difficult than she had imagined - the standing up part. Maybe the Tequila was working. "I should go." She reached for her clothes which had been tossed on a lounger.

"Sweetie, you aren't going anywhere," Angela told her as she struggled to standing with Hodgins' help. "There are like 197 bedrooms in this place and enough lounges to choke something ... you are staying here." She took the offered robe from her husband. "We have your keys and your car is in the garage which is locked by combination known old to my sweet Jack." She leaned in and kissed him.

"That is unlawful imprisonment." She slipped into her shirt and struggled to pull on her pants over her wet legs.

"That is being a good friend," Hodgins countered and went back up to the house.

"So Sweetie," she started again after Hodgins had left. "I read your journal ... you know your Booth Journal."

"My what?"

"You sent it to me with the book," Angela went on. "It was probably by mistake, but I thought that you subconsciously wanted me to read it."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"I am talking about the journal you wrote while you were in Indonesia. You wrote it to Booth."

"Oh," Brennan was very uncomfortable. She hadn't meant to send it to Angela. She hadn't meant for anyone to read it ... at least not all of it. She looked back toward the house to see Jack on the patio - out of earshot, but with in eyeshot, as he promised. "Did you show it to ...?"

"No, Jack doesn't know anything about it."

"I thought married couples shared everything."

"No." She reached over and took her friend's hand. "Loyalty to friends is still very important. Jack doesn't need to know." Brennan nodded her appreciation. "So did you actually send those entries to Booth."

Brennan really didn't want to talk about it but she knew that Angela meant well and had been waiting to discuss this very subject with her for a long time. "In the beginning, yes. The whole thing started because of the emails I was sending him. And when he told me to stop - or implied that I shouldn't continue to communicate with him, I didn't know what else to do. So I kept writing ... writing to him, but I kept them in a journal rather than an email."

"Do you think he read them? I mean the ones you sent, did he read them?"

"I doubt it. He never commented back as if he had. I didn't really expect him to. He never really understood what it was I was going in search of when I left - not sure I did either."

"His loss." Angela stated. "Have you re-read them ... since you have been back?"

"No, I mean I read them over before I sent them, but no I never went back and read them again."

"You should ... they are the evolution of ... well ... you."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Read them through again, sweetie. And think about where you were in your head when you started and where you wound up when you came home. Your whole philosophy shifted in that year and the process - the evidence - is right there on the page. It is fascinating; it is beautiful. And if Booth didn't see that or take the time to read those - then I have changed my mind. He doesn't deserve you."

"Angela," she warned not wanting her friend to say anything against Booth. "Booth went through something very horrendous over there. I can't even begin to imagine and I have all the details, so please - do not say anything against Booth. I support him now the same way I supported him when we were partners - OK?"

"Ok." Angela understood - she understood that Brennan was not about to stand up and take what was hers. "So Elizabeth is back, huh?" Angela switched topics. "What do you think will happen?"

"I don't know. But I want what is best for him."

"I know you say that and in your head you believe it, but in your heart you have to know that Elizabeth is not who is best for him. You love him, he loves you."

"I had my chance, Ange. I didn't take it." She shrugged. "Then things happened. Events change us as people. I never really appreciated that before, but there are events that happen in our lives which take us off or worse keep us on the path that we thought we wanted - and it is totally out of our control. We may have had a chance before but right now, I don't think so. Right now I think it is best if I take the position in Stanford and Booth and I just go our separate ways."

"Ya know, sweetie, that may be what ultimately happens - but you need to stop making decisions for other people."

"I beg your pardon."

"You are smart, yes. You are genius in fact. And you know your shit like no one else does. But you are not so smart that you can think for other people. Who knows what will happen? You could tell Booth that you love him -."

"I don't."

"Stop lying to yourself, sweetie - or at least stop lying to me. I read your journal - it is there in black and white; from your own head in your own words. You love him. You are in love with him. Not telling him doesn't make it any less true." She waited for Brennan to argue, which she didn't. "You could tell him that and he could say that he has moved on. And you could be left with a broken heart. It could all come down just like that and it would SUCK. But it would suck so much worse if you never told him. Never let him know the truth. Booth is a big boy. And yes I know he went through some really horrible stuff - stuff that made Elizabeth more of a necessity then a choice – like crutches for a broken leg or NyQuil for a cold. But that doesn't mean he should marry her."

"Angela," she scolded.

"Look, Booth is a big boy. He can make decisions for himself. No one should be expected to make a good decision without all the facts. You are fact, sweetie. You need to tell him and let the chips fall where they may." Brennan shook her head; she looked miserable. "I love you, Bren. I love you with all my heart. If you tell him and he walks away it doesn't mean that you are abandoned. You will never be abandoned or alone ever again - ever. I can promise you that." Angela wrapped her arms around her friend and held on tight until Brennan finally returned the embrace.

"I love you too, Ange."

"Give him all the facts, sweetie."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

In the wee hours of the morning Booth lay awake with Elizabeth curled up against him. There was a hot breeze blowing in the window – not quite fall yet and too early for Indian Summer. It was too hot to have her next to him; he preferred sleeping alone anyway. It was wrong to have made love to her when he didn't know what was next for them, but she had been so alluring, reassuring and confident. She certainly didn't act like she wanted to talk, so he did what he had been doing for months - he did what she wanted. It was probably still wrong. He hadn't renewed his proposal. She hadn't asked, but the ring was on her finger anyway. He did love her – after a fashion – and he had planned to make a life with her - sort of. His latest hypothesis that he was not meant for marriage particularly with a civilian was still hanging around the edges of his mind. Was it really true or was it just his way of dealing with one more woman leaving him? But this one came back and it felt like she was planning on staying. So now he had to decide.

As he lay there in the heat and the hot and the humid, his mind was slowing churning over all the events of the past few days, weeks, months and years. There was no cohesiveness to his thoughts, no organization, no one thing for him to glean from all that had happened or to give him an overall understanding. All he knew for sure was that he hadn't meant for any of it to happen the way it did. Worse than that, he didn't know how to move on from where he was or how to get back to that place where he could make a different choice or if he should even try. He was truly at a crossroads. Go back and try to get the life he had or move forward into a life he had chosen. When he asked Sweets that day about rewinding the clock, he had no clear moment in his head - there were so many from which to choose. There was only one thing to do. He started working backward, backward until he got to the one key event that sent him down that spiraling road. It took him a while but he found it. He found that defining event. The event that shaped all events that followed. It was that dream - that damned coma dream which wasn't even real.

Elizabeth stirred and rolled away from him. He took that as a sign that he could get up. He slipped from the bed, crept into the living room and closed the door behind him; closed the door on her and that life – if only to give him time and space to think in peace. He knew he shouldn't be remembering, reliving, re-feeling that dream with Elizabeth next to him. It wasn't the first time he had slipped from their bed because of those memories. Over two years later it still felt real to him. Those people, that life, those feelings – they were as real to him as if they had actually happened. It actually felt more real than what he and Elizabeth had but less than what he had before.

It was that dream that caused him to change his whole way of thinking, feeling and acting. He tried to remember how he felt about Brennan before that tangent into an alternate reality but he couldn't. The dream confused it all. Did he love her before? He must have. Of course he loved her, she was his partner, but it was in so many more ways than trusting someone to have your back. He nearly died for her; he killed for her – as she did for him. They were more than friends, less than lovers yet he was closer to her than he had ever been to anyone ever in his life. He trusted her in ways that he never knew he could trust someone, and he knew - knew with every fiber of his being, with every thought and action that Brennan came first; before himself, before his career, before his desire. That was love, right? He also knew - knew without the words - that she felt the same way about him. Also love, yes? What more was there to ask for? But he did. He did want more. That damned dream made him want it all and as Brennan would say, that was not rational.

When he woke up it was hard to distinguish his dream from his reality. When he was close to her it was hard to think straight. He wanted her in the way men want women; the way he had her in his dream. That was when he should have made a different choice. There were two other options. First, he could have written the dream off as just a dream and moved on, gone back to the way things were. Keep the dream for those lonely nights like a good book or an old movie to re-experience over and over again. Or second, he could have told her he loved her and opened a line of dialog that would have led them to something else. Of course he didn't do either; he wanted to keep the dream alive but did nothing to make it real. She must have felt his ambiguity, his equivocation, his confusion. Brennan was not be the best at picking up interpersonal cues, but she knew him - inside and out. If he were unsure, she knew it. Even the night that they had talked to Sweets about his book, he hedged, he obfuscated, he equivocated. _**I'm the gambler**_? _**I believe in giving this a chance**_ - what the hell was that? That wasn't a declaration of love. It certainly wasn't an open honest declaration of feelings and a desire to change the very nature of their relationship that would have profound implications on their existing relationship. A relationship that kept them alive and working in a profession that was quite literally life and death more often than not. A relationship that had been built over years, built on trust, respect, admiration and love - albeit platonic love. _**GIVE THIS A CHANCE**_? BAH! You give new pizza toppings a chance. You give new jeans a chance. You might even give a new hairstyle a chance. You don't chance changing an existing relationship that is good, better than good - the best you have ever known. It could blow up in both your faces. You don't CHANCE that unless you are sure - both sure. If you aren't prepared to go all in - then pick up your chips and go home or you keep hedging your bets trying to stay in the game. You don't blurt it out and the first second there is resistance back off and go the other way. _**I knew right from the beginning**_. LIAR! He wasn't THAT GUY. If he were that guy he wouldn't have back off; he wouldn't have said he was going to move on. He wasn't THAT GUY. He was a gambler taking a chance. It is no wonder she said no. That was another moment in time that he wished he could have made a different choice.

The night before she left for Indonesia they had dinner together - their last dinner together. It was sweet, sad and nostalgic. They talked over some old cases and events that they had shared. They laughed at the people they had met and complimented each other for the things that each had brought to the other's life. He should have made a declaration that night, opened a safe line of communication that would carry them through the next 365 days. Of course the night before they were to fly away from each other felt like it was too late, but he should have. He should have told her, asked her to consider it while she was away and promised to remain true to her until they met again. Another missed opportunity.

Instead they built each other up with promises and assurances about coming home, and getting back the life they were abandoning. Of course that only served to make the separating easier - but the actual separation impossible. Each knew that those were promises that neither one could honestly make. Booth came up with the plan for the re-meeting at the coffee cart by the reflecting pool exactly one year later - very romantic if a little unrealistic. They would be in contact - phone, email whatever. They may not see each other every day, they may not have been working together, but it was unreasonable to think that all communication would be cut off - it was 2010/2011 after all. Brennan was better with the email than he was; she was a writer. She wrote about her work and what she was discovering; impressions of people and relationships. It was all pretty dry. Booth was looking for something else from her; something other than the scientist. She wrote every day and they were often very long. At first he didn't know how to respond - frankly some of it was just out of his grasp, and of course he couldn't tell her anything about what he was doing. Eventually he just stopped reading them, it was enough to see her name in his in box. He responded sporadically with news of his own - as much as he could tell, which wasn't much. She still wrote every day, twice a day if he had written to her - she would comment back on his email.

Then _**the incident**_ happened. He woke up again in a hospital bed with her watching over him. That time he knew he hadn't woken up from a dream. He knew it was reality. He knew what he had done and the cost to those around him. He had seen her face before he gave the order. He had hesitated. Nothing would have changed the outcome other than many more people, including himself would have died, but still six boys died and he may never be the man he was. She was immovable, as immovable as she always had been. When she looked at him, he saw pity. He couldn't have her near him. He couldn't let her be close. He sent her away. He was rude and mean and he sent her away. When she left he made up his mind to change everything about his life - there was no going back. When he was able to walk again he was determined to do just that. Enter Elizabeth. He used her to push thoughts of the incident, Brennan and everything about his old life away. It was easy to do; she was so different from the good doctor. She didn't make him feel stupid or like what he wanted in life was wrong. The best thing about Elizabeth was that she never pushed. She never pushed him for anything. She let him be who he needed to be and who he needed to be was someone else. Someone he was not. Elizabeth of course did not know that - she hadn't known Booth before. Being back in Washington, being back at the FBI, in sessions with Sweets and working with the Squint Squad was making it hard to keep up that Other Person persona. Soon his old self, his real self, would collide with who he had decided to be. That morning, in the dark and the heat, Booth knew that his old self would win. Was it fair to Elizabeth to keep her tied to a man she did not know? Was it reasonable to think that the Old Booth would love Elizabeth? Should he let her see the real Booth, and let her decide? Should he end it cleanly? So many bad choices. Where did he start to make amends?

Elizabeth squatted down next to him and took his hand. He hadn't heard her get up or come into the room. He looked down into her face and pushed some hair back behind her ears. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan arrived at work ahead of everyone else. She hadn't slept well and caught a cab back to the Jeffersonian. Luckily she had a change of clothes in her office. The one thing stuck in her mind from the early morning with Angela was the journal. She hadn't reread it, but maybe it was time she did. She found it on her hard drive and printed out all 700+ pages. The dates ranged from May 20, 2010 (about six hours into her fight) through September 16, 2011 (the day before). They weren't daily entries, but they were regular and often two to three pages in length. She checked back through her emails as she was waiting for the print to finish, she had sent the journal - accidentally or otherwise - to Angela in August before Booth's big revelation to her. She hadn't written about what he had told her about the incident - about hesitating, about seeing her face and hearing her voice. She flipped to those pages first. No one who wasn't aware of the particulars of her conversation with Booth would have any idea what she was commenting on. Even in a private journal which she never expected anyone else to read, she was protecting Booth.

She flipped back to the entry after Booth had called and informed her that he was going to ask Elizabeth to marry him, after the night she mistakenly allowed herself to be comforted by Geoffrey Winthrop Pearce. The entry was short. It spoke of regret and the inability to change the past. She wondered about personal happiness couching it terms of the remains they were studying. Why would they leave their societies? What had attracted them? Were they already outcasts and just found each other and stayed together out of necessity? Or were they two souls who were compelled to be together in spite of their differences, who chose to be together leaving everything that they knew behind. Ultimately it didn't matter. By choice, lack of options or pure happenstance, they found each other and a safe location to raise their young and stay together until death. She dubbed the parents: Romeo and Juliet. Her final conclusion was that these two - Romeo and Juliet - we rare. Most primates would choose to stay with their own species, their own communities, their own societal norms. If they had, they would have lived longer and produced viable offspring. That's all that Booth was doing. He was choosing to stay with his own kind. She could not fault him for that.

"Tempe," Cam called from the doorway. "Please tell me you didn't work all night again."

"No," she said easily. "In fact Angela and I drank tequila into the wee hours of the morning and I am still experiencing the effects."

"Let's not say that too loudly. Don't want to encourage people coming to work hung-over."

"I do have a headache, but I am fine to work, Cam," she assured her. "But I will keep that to myself."

"Good, will you join me on the platform? We made a few discoveries of our own last night."

"Absolutely." Brennan stood up a little too quickly and lost her balance. "Maybe I am not as _**fine**_ as I thought."

"More water and a greasy breakfast and you will be right as rain."

"I don't know what that means."

"No one knows what that means."

"Yet, apparently people say it."

"Apparently."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Booth wandered into the lab with his own issues. No sleep and a long conversation with Elizabeth that morning put him off his game. Decisions were made and he had no idea if they were the right ones or not. Booth skirted the platform opting to go directly to Brennan's office. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to her - they were still in the middle of the case, but he somehow felt that he should tell her about Elizabeth. Maybe she wouldn't care. Maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe they could just go back to being Booth and Brennan - crime fighters and forget the past year - at least forget what happened between them over the past two years.

Brennan wasn't in her office - she was clearly at work, but not at her desk. He decided to wait and slumped down into her chair. Her book - probably her latest - was open on her desk. He tried to avert his eyes - he wasn't a spoiler hound, he like to read her books from beginning to end before the reviews came out. Something caught his eye. The first word on the top left was his name followed by the date 'February 27, 2011.' The date itself didn't mean anything to him but late February was about the time he had asked Elizabeth to marry him. He read the lines underneath. They seemed like they were about her work in Indonesia. Why would they be addressed to him? He flipped forward. They were all addressed to him. He flipped them back over to the first page. He recognized it immediately. It was the first email she had sent him after they had parted. It was from the plane. It was full of her expectations for what she would find and her regret for what she had to give up for the project. He must have read that first email a dozen times. It wasn't what he had expected. Somehow he thought it would be more personal, more pointed, more directed at him. He read her closing line again with a different expectation. "I don't know what the next days, weeks, or months will bring, but it is my dearest wish that when we do see each other again, will be able to share our experiences and they will bring us closer."

He flipped forward to the day of the incident and the days following. They were full of the pain and suffering that the remains she was studying had experienced. He had never gotten that email. There were several more he didn't get. Then he found the ones she had sent while he was recovering. He hadn't read any of those so he was never sure if he got them or didn't. But they went on. The last entry was the day before. She had continued her journal to him regardless. She was still writing to him every day.

"Pretty impressive, isn't it?" Angela said standing next to him. He had no idea that he had been walked in on. "You didn't read these," she stated. He shook his head. "Well that was a big mistake."

"I don't understand. What is this?"

"That, my good man, is the longest love letter in the history of woman-kind. I know you aren't good at reading between the lines on a page and are better at reading people. But if you read any of that, you would see it clear as day."

"I didn't … I mean … It was her Anthropology Journal."

"Was it?" Angela shook her head. "You know Booth, I have always admired you, respected you, liked you even. I was probably the only one who believed that in spite of everything you two did to stay apart but together that you two were meant to be and would figure it out one day. When you each went your separate ways I bet money that you would be the one who stayed true. That you would be the one to allow Brennan to fully realize how much love she had to give and how OK it was to take. That you would be the one and only man that she could trust not to break her heart."

"I didn't know," he defended weakly.

"Yeah, well ... there is nothing I can say to that. Brennan is better for writing that even if they weren't read." She looked sincerely disappointed in him. "Anyway, they need you on the platform. Something about cause of death for the guy in the trunk."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

What followed was hours worth of work on the case where Booth and Brennan did not have a moment to speak in private. The good news was the NCIS squints were not there. They had evidence that Edwards killed his roommate, but that had no bearing on the SUV running into the bus. Brennan discovered evidence that determined that Charlotte Barr had not shot herself; rather it was someone who was very close to her – probably Barr. Angela discovered that Barr was indeed diagnosed six months before, but apparently chose not to be treated. She surmised that the marriage to Charlotte was so that she could get his life insurance and death benefits. Something must have happened to cause Barr to snap so close to the end, kill his 'wife' and try to kill her husband. Maybe he found out that they were never divorced or that they were still involved. Maybe Edwards was supposed to be on that bus. Maybe it was nothing more than just a lovers' triangle. The fourth body on the bus had been identified as Edwards' accomplice - the co-defendant. He knew Barr as well. It was naive to think that that case had no bearing on the accident. They had yet to find out what Barr was being investigated for. Booth did discover that he was not on the Terrorist watch list - so it was something else. It was time to bring all the evidence to Edwards and see what they could squeeze out of him.

Booth was called back to the Hoover Building as NCIS was trying to move Edwards to their offices. Booth blocked that and would have to convince Gibbs to use their interrogation room. Brennan was to stay at the lab until all evidence was logged and confirmed. She would meet him at the Hoover building in time for the interrogation.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan stepped off the elevator; Booth was waiting none too patiently. "What took you so long? Gibbs has been in with him for twenty minutes," he scolded as they made their way to the interrogation room.

"I was getting the evidence we need."

"Great, great ... feed it to me when I am in there, OK?" Booth was about to step into the interrogation room nodded for Bones to go into the observation room.

"Booth," Brennan called to him. "Booth there is something ... something I need to tell you ..."

"Can it wait, Bones?" he asked turning back. He was more than a little anxious. This would be the first suspect he had interrogated since he had been back. NCIS was watching, his bosses were watching. This would be a test.

"No," she said keeping her voice low. "No, it can't."

Booth turned back to look at her. "Something I need to know about Edwards?"

"No," she said again. "I need to tell you ... you need to know," she stammered.

"What?"

"I love you," she said evenly. She thought for a moment if there were something she needed to add, but nothing came to mind. That was all she needed to say. "That's all." She started walking passed him but he grabbed her arm and turned her back toward him.

"What did you just say?"

"I said that I loved you ... I love you," she repeated correcting the tense. "I thought you should know."

"We are about to interrogate a witness -"

"Suspect," she corrected.

"Suspect for the homicide of eight people and you chose this time - right now," he looked around and pulled her off to the side. "You chose now to tell me that you love me?"

"Yes," she said as if it were an absurd question.

He pulled her into the empty conference room and closed the door. "Was that supposed to be encouraging ... to help me successfully interrogate the suspect - you know like 'go get 'em tiger' cause if it is, Bones you need to work on your -"

"No, I genuinely love you ... Angela would say that I am in love with you, but I am not sure I understand the distinction."

"Bones!" he exclaimed, frustrated and confused.

"I thought it was a piece of information that you should have," she protested.

"Now?"

"Elizabeth is back in town and I assumed that you two would be discussing a future and I believed that in order for you to make an informed decision you needed to know my feelings. They may have no bearing, but as I too am considering a relocation and change of job which is directly impacted by your reaction. I thought you should know - so I told you."

"Why now?"

"The case is almost over. I expect that this interrogation will net a confession and we will be free to make decisions."

"Just so you know - this kind of information is a bit of a bombshell. It really shouldn't be dropped in the middle of a hallway in the middle of a case ... for future reference. This kind of information should probably be held for a more appropriate setting."

"I understand," she said evenly. "In my defense, this was the first opportunity that we had since I made the decision to tell you and given the circumstances I was unsure if there would be an appropriate setting in the near future." Booth was totally blown away. "We should go."

Booth just shook his head. She was so unlike anyone he had ever known. "Right, yeah ... the suspect ... great ... not distracted now," he said sarcastically. He opened the door and allowed her to exit in front of him. "Thanks for the intel, eh Bones."

"You're welcome," she said. "Go get 'em, tiger," she added before entering the observation room. Booth just had to smile. There was nothing else to do.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Much to Booth's surprise, he was completely focused in the interrogation. Brennan fed him information like a pro, picked up on cues from Edwards and provided evidence a moment before it was needed. She was terse, to the point and right on target. They were perfectly in sync. Gibbs - who never used the ear piece - was impressed with Booth and when he found out about Brennan in his ear, he was more impressed. He had never had a partner that he was so connected with.

As it turned out, Charlotte and Edwards were to run away together, that was why the SUV had been filled with camping gear. They were 'going off the grid'. She had gone to meet the bus. Apparently Barr found out. Killed her and drove the SUV into the bus hoping to kill Edwards. Edwards had been unable to meet her and sent his friend (the co-defendant) to meet Charlotte and tell her that he would hook up with her later. He was late because his roommate had found out that Edwards had broken into his bank accounts and siphoned off all his money – some $160,000 – a nest egg for the Edwards new life. He of course pointed out that Barr had been suicidal since they met. He still knew nothing about the cancer – neither did Gibbs.

What Gibbs knew that the FBI didn't was that Barr had been under investigation for his own crimes against the Navy that included Edwards, the co-defendant and the roommate. Since Barr's death was going to be ruled a suicide, Charlotte's and the people on the bus were murdered by a dead man, Gibbs didn't feel the need to share, but other charges would be laid against Edwards in a military court after the Federal Court got through with him for the murder of his roommate.

The interrogation was over. Booth went to find Brennan, but she was gone. She apparently left right after the confession before all the details were revealed. The agent that was with her in observation said that she had gotten a phone call and left.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

_**"Lister," Kathy called to him. "ANDY!" **_

_**He groaned. "Where are we?"**_

_**"Salt has us."**_

_**"Where? Where is he?"**_

_**"I don't know? He has been gone for about twenty minutes. Can you move?"**_

_**Another groan. "No ... restrained ... is that blood?" Lister noticed that Kathy had an IV of blood and something else hooked to her arm.**_

_**"Yes," she said. "I don't understand. If he is going to kill us ... why not just let us die."**_

_**"Too easy," he told her. "We are probably safe for the moment."**_

_**"Don't feel safe," she said, her voice cracking.**_

_**"Hey, Hey," he said gently. "I know it looks bad."**_

_**"Really bad."**_

_**"We will get out of this," Lister told her. **_

_**"I don't see how."**_

_**"We have gotten out of worse."**_

_**"No, no we haven't." She craned her head to look at him. "In case we don't -"**_

_**"Don't say anything that you will wish you hadn't when we do," he told her. **_

_**"I should have told you this before," she went on. **_

_**"Reichs ... Kathy ... we will make it out of this ... OK? Trust me." He pulled at his constraints.**_

_**"I am not in love with Dr. Ramanish."**_

_**He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, that guy is not good enough for you."**_

_**"Are you?" She returned the question a little too quickly. **_

_**"Am I?"**_

_**"Good enough for me ... in your opinion."**_

_**"Are we really going to talk about this now?" He struggled to pull his arm free. "Think we should focus on how we are going to get out of here."**_

_**Kathy's eye caught something. "I don't think we are."**_

_**"Why do you say that?"**_

_**She nodded over to something on the table between them. It was a bomb. The digital clock was counting down: nine minutes forty-seven seconds, nine minutes forty-six, nine minutes forty-five ... **_


	13. Chapter 13

**No Bride for Booth**

**By LizD**

**Written May 2010 - July 2010**

**Chapter 13**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan closed her laptop when she saw Elizabeth Darrow enter a small bistro in Georgetown. Brennan wasn't sure what she was about to hear, but Elizabeth had requested the meeting. She had tried to refuse but Elizabeth was extremely demanding.

"Thank you for coming, Dr. Brennan."

"What can I do for you, Ms. Darrow?"

"I am not sure how much you know, so I am going to tell you what I need you to hear - OK?" Brennan nodded for her to continue. "I love Seeley. I didn't think I would ever love another man after my husband died, but particularly in the past several weeks I have come to believe that I have fallen in love with him."

"The past several weeks?" Brennan asked. "The weeks you spent in San Diego with your dead husband's family?"

Elizabeth sat back. She had heard about Brennan's abruptness, but never expected it to be so pointed. "Yes," she answered. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder," she spouted as if that were a reasonable explanation.

"That sentiment never made sense to me," Brennan commented. "However your statement implies that you didn't believe you were in love with him when you broke the engagement and left town, or for the past several months living with him here in DC, or when you came to see me in July or August or when you accepted his proposal of marriage. Do you believe that Booth was in love with you all this time?"

Elizabeth's eyes flashed with anger. "The point is, I came back to renew my engagement with Seeley." She waggled her left hand for Brennan to see the ring firmly placed on her finger. She waited for Brennan to respond, but got nothing. "It seemed that we needed some time apart with no expectations in order to reevaluate our feelings and our relationship."

"I understand that," Brennan spoke from experience.

"What I found when I came back was Seeley more lost, more confused and more alone than he had been when we were together."

"And you believe that you were the stabilizing factor in his life."

"More than that, I believe that his working in major crimes and his partnership with you is not."

"I suppose from your perspective that would be accurate."

"And you think I am wrong."

"Ms. Darrow, I have known Booth for seven years. I trust what he tells me to be true. So I believed him when he said that he was glad to be back working in major crimes. He was glad to be proactive and productive. That he was glad to be working with me again. Never did he mention that he was lost, confused or alone. " She wanted to say that he expressed a sense of relief when Elizabeth broke off the engagement and left, but felt that that might be too harsh. " In fact he seemed pretty focused. For the first time in more than a year, he seemed to be getting back to his old self, the way he was before. You may not recognize that as you have no frame of reference." That was a little harsh.

"Booth chose me!" Elizabeth stated unequivocally. Brennan showed no reaction, but her heart sunk into the pit of her stomach. Irritated by the lack of reaction, Elizabeth continued her attack. "I'm stunned as to why you still consider him your partner? Why you still refer to your partnership in the present tense? Do you care about him at all?" Brennan didn't say anything. "If you were his _**partner**_, why have you not been in his life for the past nine months? Why did you walk away during his darkest hour? Why did you leave your _**partner**_ in the hands of a stranger to find his way back?"

Brennan felt the tears welling up in her eyes and forced them back. "It was at Booth's request."

"I would never leave anyone I loved."

"No, I imagine you wouldn't," she said coldly.

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Brennan paused to check her words. "It means that people make mistakes - about themselves and about the people in their lives. Sometimes for all the right reasons, a wrong decision is made. It means that people who are selflessly making choices for the other person's benefit can make the wrong choice without malice."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, is that what you are telling me?"

"I don't appreciate metaphors or clichés. What I am saying is that all of us are doing the best we can - and I am including you. I believe that you do care about Booth and that you sincerely want the best for him."

"I do."

"But is what you want necessarily best for him?" Elizabeth was shut down.

"Are you in love with Seeley?"

"He doesn't like to be called by his given name."

"That does not answer my question," she barked.

"I am no comfortable sharing my feelings with you as you clearly have an agenda."

"Are you hoping that he will leave me for you?"

"I have no expectations as concerns Booth at all, but if you need an assurance from me that I will not interfere with your relationship with Booth, then you have it." Of course declaring her love for him, to him, directly and unequivocally could only be considered interference.

Elizabeth laughed - snorted really. "You can't possibly make that assurance, Dr. Brennan. Your very existence is an interference in my relationship with Seeley. You could be his partner or you could be a million miles away. You are smack dab between us."

"That is not my intention and clearly not something I can control. That would be something that Booth needs to address. Maybe you two should seek couples counseling."

"Counseling, right ... 'cause it worked so well for you." Elizabeth shook her head. How could Seeley care about such a cold fish? "Intention or no, Dr. Brennan - you are there. And I don't play second to anyone - for anyone." She waited for Brennan to respond, but none was forth coming. "As yourself - as he partner, as his friend: If Seeley were about to lose a chance at real happiness because of you - because of your _**partnership**_, are you worth it?" With that she got up and stormed out.

"Real happiness?" Brennan didn't believe in that, but Booth did.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Booth spent the next several hours processing Edwards. He had called Brennan to talk to her about the case (there were other things to talk about but that would come later), but she didn't pick up. He has scheduled dinner with Elizabeth and didn't feel it was right to cancel. He called to say he would be late, but had to leave a message.

"I hear you caught the bad guy," Sweets said.

Booth leaned back and nodded for Sweets to take his guest chair. Being in the bull pen and not an office, Booth didn't like to talk and particularly not with Sweets, regardless he needed to keep his voice down. Maybe no one would notice. "We did."

"Congratulations," he said. "How was it working with Dr. Brennan again?"

"Fine."

"Fine?" Sweets was shocked. "I saw the interrogation tapes ... it was better than Fine ... you two were amazing."

"We had the guy, dead to rights ... there was nothing AMAZING about it." Even Booth didn't believe what he was saying. They were amazing. They never should have split up. "I need to ask you something Sweets ... since clearly you are still fixated on us."

Sweets sat back fearing what was coming next.

"You trashed your book, I hear ... why?"

"It would have needed an entire re-write to account for the information you gave me and ..."

"And?"

"And as I thought about it ... it felt like an invasion of privacy."

"It didn't before?"

"As colleagues you two were a fascinating pair. You shouldn't have worked, but you did - to some pretty fantastic results and not just professionally. You both learned to trust - excluding the outside world, but it was a giant step for both of you"

"But your conclusion kind of threw that COLLEAGUE thing out the window, yes?"

"As I said it felt more like an invasion of privacy. I was witness to something very profound and I was taking advantage of it. I'm sorry."

Booth nodded. An apology was what he had wanted from Sweets for more than a year. "Let me ask you something else. When I woke up from my coma ... you warned me ... hell you gave me factual scientific medical proof that what I was feeling for Bones wasn't real. Then, seven months later you all but dared me to speak those feelings. How could you ... Why did you flip?"

"In those intervening months it was my impression that those feelings hadn't diminished and that by continuing to deny them there would be irreparable damage done to the partnership."

"Well admitting them didn't help either."

"So you took my advice and told her how you felt?" Sweets asked. He knew the answer from something else Booth has said, but they never talked about it. "You told her you were in love with her."

Booth shifted his position. "Not in so many words," he said. "But the gist was there."

"Do you regret not being more direct?"

"She wasn't in love with me," he stated but the operative word in that sentence was WASN'T as in WAS NOT, as in PAST TENSE. She loved him now. She admitted it.

"So I will assume that Dr. Brennan was still in denial? She said as much in my office but I assumed that was for my benefit, not yours. I assumed that she would respond in kind, if you spoke first."

"You know what they say about assuming, Sweets."

"I see. I see." He looked down. "Well that makes the animosity you have toward me make more sense, and the whole year away is put in a little bit more perspective. What about now? You are engaged to another woman and working with Dr. Brennan, what is that like?"

Booth shook his head. "Forget it, Sweets ... not going there again with you. OK?" Booth grabbed his files and left.

"Yeah, sure." Sweets looked miserable.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Angela had insisted on driving Brennan to the airport. Brennan would have preferred a taxi as it would have been less talk. "So you told him?'

"Yes, Angela ... I told him."

"What did he say?"

"He had to go interrogate a suspect."

"Sweetie!"

"I didn't want to wait for a specific time. It seemed best to tell him and allow him to deal with it on his own as he saw fit."

"And?"

"And then Elizabeth called and we haven't had a chance to talk privately."

"You saw Nurse Betty again?"

"Yes, she told me they were back together. More than that, she implied that if Booth and I didn't end our partnership, she would leave him."

"So you are running away? What did I tell you about making decisions for other people?"

"I am going to Stanford to tour the facilities, to discuss the expectations and to consider their offer. That is all."

"But you haven't accepted the job yet."

"Angela," she scolded.

"Look I just got you back after a year sabbatical, I don't want to be pen pals again anytime soon."

"Angela, we will always be friends - isn't that what you said?"

"Yes." She sighed. "Just don't make any rash decisions OK? At least not until you have all the facts, until you talk to Booth - face to face."

"Don't worry."

"Did you tell Booth you were going?"

"I left him a message that said I would be back in two days to help wrap up the case."

"Did you tell him about Elizabeth?"

"I didn't see the point."

Angela pulled up to the curb and jumped out. "I love you sweetie."

"I love you too," Brennan hugged her.

"You are always leaving," she said.

"And I always come back."

"So far."

"I will this time too."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan's plane was delayed. She sat in the bar trying to distract herself with what to do next with her characters but nothing was coming. Her phone rang, it was Booth.

"Stanford?" he barked into the phone when she picked up. "Right now? You are going to Stanford right now?"

"Well, I will spend the night in Los Angeles and head up to Stanford in the morning."

"You know that is not what I am asking."

"Yes I am leaving now - well the plane has been delayed, but I expect they will call us in twenty minutes."

"Bones!"

"I am only going to speak with them; I have not made a decision."

"We have a lot of paperwork to do to wrap this case, ya know."

"I will send you my report when I get there, I can write it up from the plane."

"Why are you really going?"

"It seemed prudent."

"Prudent? What is going on Bones?"

"Elizabeth suggested that -."

"Elizabeth? You talked to her? When?"

"This afternoon. She contacted me and -"

"I thought I asked you to refer her to me if she was to contact you again."

"Which is essentially what I said."

"But now you are getting on a plane," he protested. "What happened?"

Brennan briefly considered keeping the confidence before she spoke. "She told me that she was in love with you. That she came back to renew the engagement, that major crimes and our partnership were not good for you - I assumed she meant your mental health. She suggested that I was causing a rift in your relationship - again I assumed she meant our partnership, not me per se though she seemed to have been confused on that point. Women often are. They confuse the other person for -."

"Bones," he stopped her from going off on a tangent.

"And she challenged me for leaving you when you were injured and questioned my value in your life."

Booth was blown away. He never would have suspected that Elizabeth would be so harsh. She never had been with him, but he knew Brennan didn't lie or exaggerate. In fact she was probably saying less than really happened. "That doesn't make sense," he said. "We broke up this morning, before I saw you, she was packing to leave. There was no confusion for either of us. In fact we agreed and it was all very amicable."

Brennan was a little confused. She had originally assumed that the interview with Elizabeth was due to her declaration to Booth, but of course it couldn't have been. He didn't have a chance to tell Elizabeth before she called. In light of the conversation with Elizabeth, Brennan felt that her assertion was too little, too late. She would not force Booth to respond or in any way acknowledge her sentiments or compromise his relationship with Elizabeth. After Elizabeth stormed out, Brennan had written to Stanford to accept the invitation to visit.

"It doesn't make sense that she would confront you like that."

"Maybe she changed her mind. Maybe she needed someone to blame," Brennan offered. "Psychology is your area, not mine. But she seemed to be pretty adamant that you two were engaged and that my continued presence would jeopardize the relationship."

"Did you believe her?" he asked.

"I had no reason to believe she was lying."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Question the value you bring to my life?"

Brennan didn't know how to answer that. "They are calling our flight, I need to go."

"Bones ... wait ... You'll be back in a couple of days?"

"Yes ... you will have my report as soon as we land."

"Don't accept their offer," he protested. "Not yet ... not until we can talk, OK?"

She snapped the phone shut before responding, saying good-bye or hearing anything else he had to say. In her head she heard Angela's warning about making decisions for other people.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Booth knocked on the apartment door. He had told her he would give her all the time and space she needed to get her stuff together for the move back to San Diego; he would find other accommodations. He didn't want there to be any confusion that the relationship was over (i.e. no more sex). It really shouldn't have taken that long, she never actually moved in. They were living with his stuff (the bare necessities) that they pulled out of storage. As far as he could tell she had never moved anything personal other than her clothes into the apartment and at that they were only summer clothes. They hadn't made one joint purchase together other than food and one trip to _**Bed, Bath and Beyond**_ for linens. On his way over that night he was feeling guilty. He had used her. It wasn't his intention, but he had - or he felt that way. But he was coming to realize that she had never fully committed either. She clearly didn't trust him - of course he was not entirely trustworthy. He would have married her. He would have stayed with her. He would have moved to San Diego and been a shadow of his former self. It would have been a mistake, but he would have done it. That morning when they talked they agreed it was a mistake. So why would she confront Brennan?

"Seeley," she said stepping back allowing him to enter. "I didn't expect to see you tonight."

"Really?" He looked down at her hand and noticed the ring still on her finger. "I was under the impression you thought we were still together."

She lifted her hand and pulled it off handing it back to him. "No."

"Really?" He stuffed the ring in his pocket. He didn't want the ring, there was nothing he was going to do with it. But he certainly wasn't going to let her have it if she were could to misrepresent them. "I had heard that you stated - in so many words - that we were. I was just here to ask about that." He was controlling his anger. He never thought he would be angry with Elizabeth, but he didn't like women who played games particularly not with him.

"So she called you," Elizabeth walked away. "I knew she would."

"She didn't call me. In fact she left town."

Elizabeth didn't turn around but she smiled to herself. "Well that sounds typical. She is good at leaving and letting other people clean up the mess."

Booth followed her into the living room. "I don't know what you think you know about Brennan - but whatever you are thinking is wrong."

Elizabeth turned toward him. "She doesn't love you. She can't give you what you want."

"I can say the same about you, Elizabeth." Booth couldn't believe he just said that. "I'm sorry ... but you have to know that is true."

"I just can't believe that you left me for -."

"Hey ... stop ... stop right there, Elizabeth. This is not a choice between you and Brennan. We talked this morning. We talked about us and what our expectations were. You don't love me."

"I could."

"Yeah, maybe ... in another lifetime. We had some fun and I will be forever in your debt for helping me. I think I helped you too. But it is not enough to build a marriage."

"You didn't always think so."

"No, no I didn't - and I was wrong. I had no right to ask you. It was unfair and I am sorry. You at least had the courage to stop it before it went too far and ultimately call it quits."

"Yeah. Yeah it was a good run. We did have some fun. And you did show me one thing about myself that I would never have discovered otherwise. I want love in my life. I will never forget William, but I want to love and be loved. I can have it and I deserve it."

"Yes you do."

She smiled. "I won't apologize about Dr. Brennan. I still think she holds way to big a place in your life - she doesn't deserve you, Seeley."

He smiled. "I need to tell you one thing - I mean I should have said something a while ago, but I was ... how should I say this? ... I was going for a different outcome." She waited. "I really hate it when people call me _**Seeley**_."

She nodded and smiled. Point Brennan. "Ok, Ok ... I hear you."

"Good," he reached out to take her hand. "You need anything, you call, OK?"

"Ok," she pressed his hand back.

He pulled her into a friendly embrace. "Find some happiness," he whispered in her ear.

She turned her face into his neck and nuzzled it. "One more for the road, soldier?" she asked playfully.

He stepped back and looked at her. It was gone. The need to do what he needed to do to make her happy was gone. He was his own man again, and he didn't want to be with her. "No, no thanks."

"Where are you staying?" she asked worried that he was running off to Brennan's.

"Charlie has a couch ... take your time." He turned and left without looking back. It was very liberating.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan sat in her hotel room by LAX. The noise from the planes taking off and landing was going to keep her awake all night. She should have rented a car and driven the 6 hours to Stanford rather than wait for morning to catch a flight to San Jose. She thought about calling Booth several times. He had said he had broken up with Elizabeth. He asked her directly not to make a decision about Stanford. He clearly wanted to respond to her declaration. Leaving town was probably the chickens way out, but it meant that he would be allowed to make a decision without pressure. It felt wrong though. It felt like she was playing a game.

She opened her email and wrote:

_**Booth -**_

_**You probably won't read this one either if I actually hit send. I told you today that I loved you. I don't regret anything about that that other than my timing. I should have told you years ago. The thing is I don't think it means that our partnership, our friendship, our relationship needs to be pushed into a different direction. I can love you - I have loved you - these past ten months and you have barely been in my life. I have loved you the four years before that but never felt the need to push for a different outcome - in fact I did everything I possibly could to not try for a different outcome. I trust you as I never have anyone including myself. I know you trust me. That has so much more value than anything that can be gleaned from a more romantic relationship. Somehow I know you appreciate that as much as I do. Elizabeth challenged my value in your life. Only you can determine that, but your value in mine is priceless. So know this, I will never break your trust or do anything to have your trust in me shaken. You would probably say - as I would say to you - that that is not a promise I can make, but we would both be wrong. I have nothing to gain and everything to lose. I expected to be alone, but if I can keep your trust, I will never be alone. **_

_**Yours, Temperance **_

She considered for a moment and hit send. She didn't notice that it was the wrong email address.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

_**The clock was ticking down to two minutes. Lister struggled against their restraints. "I think I have it," Lister grunted as he pulled his hand free. "There, I got it." He reached over to undo his other arm. "Hang on, I am going to get us out of here." Reichs had stopped struggling. Her IV has been dislodged and she was losing consciousness. "Kathy! Kathy! Don't you die on me, girl." He untied his feet and fell off the gurney. He ran to the bomb, but it was completely sealed. There was no getting in without tools. He rushed back over Kathy. She was unconscious. He thought about untying her but there wasn't time. With great effort he pushed the gurney to the door. It was locked. The clock read 45 seconds. There was a door on the other side of the room, probably a closet. At least they might be shielded from the blast. He rolled the gurney across the room and into the closet. He pulled the door closed behind them just as the clock ticked down to zero.**_


	14. Chapter 14

No Bride for Booth

By LizD

Written May 2010 -July 2010

Chapter 14

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

For two days Booth sat with all that had happened. He was restless and anxious but also glad he had time before he would see her again. Of course too much time to think was not a good thing either. True to her word she had send her report as soon as her plane landed in Los Angeles, but he needed to talk to her - face to face. The phone wouldn't cut it. He had no idea what he would say, but for two days he had been sitting with her declaration. He would have preferred more time to process Elizabeth's departure, but there was something that was telling him not to wait, not to screw up, not to play it wrong. Not to **play** it at all.

Booth went to the lab to pick up some reports. He didn't need to. They weren't important. They could have been messengered over in a day or two, but he needed to do something. He met Hodgins on his way out for the night.

"Hey man, sup?" Hodgins asked.

"Just came to pick up those reports on the gunshot wounds found on Charlotte Edwards."

"Cam left with them an hour ago, you must have missed her."

"Yeah, I guess." Booth looked up to Brennan's office. It was dark. She wasn't back yet.

"Hey," Hodgins asked. "Wanna grab a beer?"

"Yeah," Booth said. "Yeah, sure."

About thirty minutes later they were at some local dive that Booth had never been to before (Hodgins was well known) with a couple of shots and a couple of beers in front of them. Hodgins raise his shot glass up. "Booth - damn glad you are back, man." Booth studied him for a moment and wondered which _**back**_ Hodgins was referring to. "And, I want to say Thank You."

"Thank you?" Booth looked puzzled. "For what?"

"Hey, man ... I may not agree with the powers that be, I may vote against them, and I may shout at the moon to bring their antics into the light of day ... but you ... and people like you ... who do what you believe in because you believe it is correct, you put your lives on the line, you put your lives on hold and go off to war, you see things, do things, feel things that are too ugly to talk about. You guys, man, I support you. All my howling at the moon is nothing. You make is OK for people like me to have an opinion and I never forget that. I want you to know, I never forget that. So ... Thank you, man."

Booth nodded. "Yeah." They touched glasses and they downed the shots. Jack motioned for two more.

"Whoa ... slow down there Hodgins."

"It's been a long time, Booth ... and if I may say? You look like a man who could stand getting shit faced and waking up with your head in a toilet bowl."

Booth took a long hit off his beer and then raised his shot glass. "Here's to it then."

"Whatever the hell IT is."

"You got that right." They drank and slammed their glasses down on the bar. This time the bartender left the bottle.

"So Angela ..." Booth started.

"My wife ... how cool is that? ... I mean, she married me. Can you believe it?"

"She is something."

"Every day I wake up wondering how I can make her happy ... the hell of it is ... she is happy. She doesn't need the money or anything ... she doesn't need me to do a damned thing. All I have to do is love her - and that is like breathing - no effort at all."

"Brennan said something about you two thinking about kids."

"Yeah ... soon ... she has got a few more wild oats to sew, but this time next year I bet we will be picking out baby names and painting one of the nurseries yellow."

"Never pictured you as the kind of guy that wanted to settle down."

"Who is settled? Every day with Angela is an adventure ... and I expect that if we have one or a hundred kids ... we won't be doing meatloaf night on Tuesdays."

"Right." Booth reflected on his own _**meatloaf Tuesdays**_ fantasy. He didn't want that either. He really didn't. Honestly.

"So tell me about Elizabeth," Hodgins asked though he already knew the answer.

"Gone ... another one I let slip through my fingers."

"Did you try to stop her?" Hodgins asked. "I mean if you really wanted her, you never would have come back to Washington. So why did you really come back?"

Booth downed another shot. "You expecting me to say I came back for Bones?"

"Just asking a question, man ... just asking a question."

"She told me she loved me," Booth said miserably.

"Who? Elizabeth?"

"Bones ... right there in the hallway at the FBI ... in the middle of an investigation. I guess I am glad she didn't wait until I was actually IN the interrogation room where should could have just blurted it out in my ear."

Hodgins shrugged. "So you told her you loved her back, you kissed, and back to business?"

"No ... not quite the way it went down."

"You do love her, right?"

"There is no one like Brennan ... for good and bad ... she is totally unique."

"That doesn't sound like love."

Booth downed another shot. He was at least two ahead of Hodgins. "Aw hell, Hodgins ... I have no idea what I want much less what I feel. All I know for sure is that I can't get her out of my head."

"Do you want to?"

Booth tried to focus but scruffy Jack was getting blurry. "No."

"So?"

"She is so sure about everything, ya know. Like she has the answers. Like she knows what is going to happen and I'm an idiot if I don't believe her."

"Brennan? You are talking about Temperance Brennan being sure about everything?"

"Yeah ... she knows her mind, she knows what she wants."

"Well that right there is your problem man, Tempe is a lot of things - smart, a genius - true ... but not about matters of the heart. With those she is just as screwed up as the rest of us, she just masks it better."

"She makes a decision and it would take an act of congress just to get her to reconsider – who the hell knows what it would take to get her to change her mind."

"But when she does … look out."

Booth did another shot and pushed one at Jack. "Do you really think a guy like me and a woman like that ...?"

"Yeah man ... yeah I do."

Booth laughed. "It's not rational," he mocked.

"The heart wants what the heart wants, man."

"Who said that, Shakespeare?"

"Nah man ... It was Woody Allen."

"You're giving me advice on love from Woody Allen ... seriously, dude?"

"You want Shakespeare? _**If music be the food of love, play on**_."

"_**The course of love never did run smooth**_," Booth countered.

"_**Love comforteth like sunshine after rain**_."

"_**Better to have loved and lost**_ ..."

_**"**_That's Tennyson," Hodgins corrected._** "It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves**_."

Booth raised his beer. "I'll drink to that." The clinked their glasses and drank. "Fool," Booth said under his breath.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan sat in a pub just off campus. One of the professors had compelled her to take in a little of the local flavor. He was up playing darts with one of his grad students. Brennan was fine alone. She had been reminded how much she loved pure academia. It was safe and intellectually stimulating. She felt pulled toward it when she was in the middle of it. She wondered about working with Booth again. Maybe they shouldn't. Maybe she should stay in the lab or better yet stay out of investigating murders altogether. Maybe the best shot they had as a couple - if Booth even wanted that - was to give up working together. On the other hand it may all be moot. Booth could have moved on - from her as well as Elizabeth. Maybe he wanted to be alone - he had been most of his life, it was a reasonable expectation that he would want that back. She expected his reaction to her disclosure to be different. She hadn't expected him to return the sentiment, but if he felt the same way, shouldn't he have?

A man walked into the bar - over six feet tall, short cropped hair, dark brooding eyes, with a physique that proved he spent more time at the gym with weights than most men in a twelve hundred dollar suit would. She noticed right away that he had a weapon under each arm and one at his ankle. He was probably a cop, but he looked more like hired muscle - like a body guard. 'Is that how Booth looked to strangers,' she wondered. His eyes scanned the room looking for his target. He walked up to the bartender and flashed him something. Brennan assumed it was a badge. The bartender looked nervous and directed it to the back through the kitchen. Brennan followed.

The officer was asking questions at a woman about ten years older than Brennan. She assumed the woman was the owner or manager. The woman was getting flustered by the barrage of questions. Brennan noticed that back door to the kitchen was open. It led to the alley where a number of uniformed cops were gathered. Over to the side were a set of remains in a serious state of decomp. She stepped over to examine them. She had just started her analysis when a uniformed officer grabbed her arm.

"Hey Lady ... just what the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Examining the remains," she said dryly pulling her arm away roughly.

"And who are you?"

"I am Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian institution. I am a forensic anthropologist who consults with the FBI. My specialty is identifying remains when there is little left -."

"Step away, little lady," came a condescending voice from behind her. Brennan turned and saw the man from the bar glaring at her. "Don't care who you think you are ... this is my crime scene ... step away."

"Fine," she did but didn't exit the alley.

The coroner's van pulled up. Two kids who looked like they hadn't graduated high school jumped out, grabbed their gear and went over to retrieve the remains.

"Excuse me," Brennan shouted. "Have you done your preliminary examination? Taken samples? Looked for evidence?"

"I thought I told you -," the cop barked again.

"Yes, yes ... your crime scene ... which you are compromising if you don't collect all the evidence before you remove the remains."

"Who are you again?"

"I am Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian institution. I am a forensic anthropologist -."

"Brennan? Temperance Brennan ... the chick that writes all those Bone Books?" He nearly laughed. "I don't know where you get your ideas lady, but that shit doesn't happen in the real world."

Brennan glared back at him. "I know all about the real world. You will never solve this if you don't take more care of the initial crime scene."

"There is no evidence to gather, Dr. Brennan," he stated. "It was simple OD ... some junkie just went too far and it took more than a week for us to find him under all that garbage. This is an issue for the health inspector, not homicide."

"That is a woman - not a man. And she did not die over an overdose no more than three days ago," Brennan stated definitively.

"What? Are you psychic too? And how do you get that it was a woman?"

Brennan stepped closer and started citing all her findings: woman, age 30-40, she had given birth, she had been shot in the chest, and thrown from approximately 100 feet. She pointed to a window on the eighth floor. Rats and other vermin had removed most of the flesh.

"I didn't rule this a murder," he stated.

"No, I did. Most junkies don't wrap themselves in plastic before OD and hurling themselves out the window after being shot" She stood up. "Don't you work with a forensics team?"

"We like to keep our eggheads in the lab out here on the Left Coast where they belong."

"Then I wonder how you solve any crimes," she stepped around him.

"So that's it? You are just going to drop some scientific mumbo-jumbo and leave?"

"Scientific mumbo-jumbo is an oxymoron ... unless of course you are a moron," she snapped. "Are you asking for my help?"

He scanned her up and down a little too lustily for Brennan's tastes. "Sure, sweetheart ... show me what you got."

"I typically work with a partner," she stated.

"FBI? Not on my case," he stated. "Consider me your partner."

She scanned him up and down. She didn't like what she saw. He was rude, arrogant, condescending and mean. "No, I don't think I will but I will give you 24 hours."

"What do you think you can you give me in 24 hours?"

"You'll be surprised."

"Maybe, maybe not … but it will be my pleasure to watch your ass for 24 hours," he said loudly enough for the officer to hear. The men shared a look.

She walked past him barking orders at the coroners and officers. She needed a camera, evidence bags the whole nine yards. She instructed one of the uniform cops to find her colleague in the bar to ensure that she would have access to his lab to run some tests, otherwise it was all getting shipped back to the Jeffersonian.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Booth was nursing a really bad hangover when the call came in. "You are doing what?"

"Investigating a homicide," she said a little louder.

"Don't yell, Bones," he said pulling the phone away. "Have a bit of a headache." She waited. "So how did you get involved in this?" She told about the bar and the cop and the murder victim. "Bones, I can't come out there. Have too much on my plate right now."

"I don't need you to come," she said a little too harshly. "David … Detective Monroe doesn't want you here anyway."

"Oh _**David**_ is it?"

"I told him I would give him 24 hours … so I will be back tomorrow."

"I don't like it," Booth said.

"Why do you have an opinion at all?"

Booth was frustrated. "Lab work only. I don't know who this guy is; don't want you in the field with him. Killer gets wind that Dr. Temperance Brennan is on the case and who knows what he will do – and your detective is probably a lousy shot."

"I think you are overreacting, but I have no intention of investigating this murder outside the lab, OK?"

"Bones, I'm serious."

It was nice that he was protective. "I am too … lab work only. I will see you tomorrow."

She hung up before he could ask what flight she would be on. He'd call her later to check on the progress and ask her then. He turned to his computer and looked up "Monroe, David, Detective, Homicide, Stanford, California." His eyes turned greener and greener as he read the jacket on _**Detective David Monroe**_. He called the San Jose field office and asked them to put Brennan under DISCRETE surveillance. "She is good, she will spot you ... just make sure she doesn't get into trouble, OK?"

"Booth?" Sweets called. "You planning on missing our session?"

"No … on my way." He shut his system down and tried to figure out if he could sneak out to California for a day.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Brennan's flight was pushed later than usually because she couldn't get away. She gave her recommendations and said that if they wanted to send anything to the Jeffersonian she would review it for them. Detective Monroe has been pushy, arrogant and uncooperative the entire time. He challenged her every finding and rudely disregarded keys pieces of evidence that she had discovered in very chauvinistic ways. Worse than all of that, he continually made crude comments to her. At first she thought he was just trying to get a reaction out of her, but she came to see that he was just a pig. Monroe sexualized her at every turn. He made crude assumptions about her relationship with Booth and why they had been partners for five years. He did that air quote thing around the word partners as if Booth were only humoring her to get her into bed. All and all it was a horrible experience.

She tried to liken Monroe to working with Booth in the beginning, but couldn't. Booth had never been so confrontational. Booth didn't diminish her contributions. Booth had never felt that her contribution devalued his own investigatory abilities. He was never insulted if one of his theories wasn't supported by the evidence. And Booth never - ever - at no time - did he EVER objectify her. It made Brennan appreciate what she had all the more. It once again made her realize that Booth was a very actualized male and that he rose head and shoulder above the rest of the men in his profession. It was the first time she allowed herself – out loud and in so many words - to love him for all his fine qualities. She would tell him again, when she saw him. Maybe this time she would get a different reaction.

She got home about 10:30PM after an awful flight and was starving. She hadn't eaten all day but she needed a shower first. She was in the middle of making herself some cereal when there was a knock on her door. She checked the peep hole to see Booth on the other side. Who else would it be?

"Booth?"

"Am I interrupting you?" he asked noticing that she was in her robe and her hair was wet.

"What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" She reluctantly stepped back allowing him to enter. "When did you get back?"

"About an hour ago."

"I would have picked you up at the airport."

"Plane was late ... I took a cab."

"How was the trip?"

"Stanford is nice, people seem dedicated and hardworking, but the flight was horrendous."

"Sorry," he said sheepishly with more feeling than just about her plane ride. "Should I go?" He noticed the cereal bowl. "Is that what you are having for dinner? Why don't we order Chinese?"

"I am pretty tired Booth."

"OK," he moved back toward the door. "Just wanted to see you to make sure you made it home safely. They made an arrest in you murder case in Stanford."

"Probably the wrong guy."

"You don't even know who they arrested."

"Monroe didn't care about truth or justice - he just wanted the paperwork off his desk."

Booth nodded and smiled.

"You are the only agent or detective I will ever work with," she stated.

"Good," his smile could not be contained. No more needed to be said on the subject. Booth noticed the journal sitting on the table. "May I read that?" He nodded over to it.

Brennan was confused. "What? Why?"

"You wrote it to me."

"Yet when you had the chance -."

"I blew it," he admitted freely. "I know. I blew it. Sue me. I'm a guy. I'm human. I'm an idiot. You know that."

"You are not an idiot, Booth."

He walked over to the table and was again awed by the sheer volume. "Maybe not all of all of it." He picked up some of the pages. "Cliff notes, select periods," he smiled. "What would be better ... you know ... for me ... is if we read them together ... so you could explain them to me."

"It's in English, Booth."

"It's in Squint Speak ... you know you still need to dumb stuff down for me."

"Stop referring to yourself as stupid. While your IQ is not equal to mine, you are very intelligent - intuitively intelligent."

"Sometimes ... sometimes I can't seem to get out of my own way."

"I don't know what that means."

He finally felt safe enough to bring up the reason for his visit. "You said something to me the other day ... you revealed something to me." She nodded, unashamed and unrepentant. She knew they would have to discuss if further. "Love , huh?" She nodded. "And not a _**professional**_ _**atta boy**_ kind of way?" Brennan shook head no. "What do you think that means ... for us?"

She took a deep breath and moved to the couch and sad down. "I don't know."

He joined her. "What do you want it to mean?"

"I don't know," she looked at him. "I suppose that would depend on the future and what your feelings are for me."

He smiled slightly. He was about to put words to his feelings, something he hadn't done before - not to her. "I love you too, Bones." It felt good to say it aloud. "I'm in love with you." She smiled and nodded back. "Not like the movies, huh?" he asked.

"Meaning?"

"In the movies when someone says 'I love you' for the first time, the music comes up and the lovers rush into each other's arms, they kiss, fade to black, happily ever after."

"I watch mostly documentaries."

"Of course you do." He reached over and took her hand. He laced his fingers through hers and pressed his palm against hers. "It is good to see you, Bones," he said.

"We saw each other a couple of days ago."

"Yeah - I know - but not like this. This feels ... I don't know … familiar, right, you know ... the way it was but better."

"It felt familiar and right working on that case with you," she said.

"We can do better."

"I thought we did pretty well."

"We can have more." She looked hesitant. "What?" he asked.

"While I understand that things will change for us, I am hesitant to make it drastic."

"Why?" He felt her backing away again.

"You had suggested – from the very beginning – that we would not be able to work with each other if we were involved romantically citing FBI policy and procedures." She kept talking not allowing him to comment. "You further suggested that it was not a good idea for people who were romantically involved to work together in high risk situations as it could cause mistakes to be made – potentially fatal mistakes. I don't know how I would live with myself if you were injured or killed because of something I did or didn't do because I was distracted or casual due to a more intimate knowledge of you." He tried to speak but she kept talking. "Further, it has been my experience - and yours - that romantic relationships are fleeting, ephemeral, transitory. By your own admission you have a current attitude that you were not meant for long term relationships. I have held that belief about myself for some time. So I am to conclude that if we do enter into a romantic relationship that we would have to forgo our working partnership, that the sexual relationship would run its course and end but that we would not resume a working partnership. In fact often after a sexual relationship has ended, couples are unable to maintain even a portion of the friendship that brought them together at the outset. My reservations for looking for more between us would be that we would ultimately lose everything and that is unacceptable." She paused to consider but Booth wasn't prepared. "Though since we have come this far I suspect that it is too late to turn back now."

He leaned back. "So there it is."

"What?"

"That is more honesty then I have ever gotten from you."

"I don't know how to respond to that."

"How long have you felt this way?"

"Since we found my mother's remains," she said definitively.

"What? That was not what I was asking ... how long have you ... loved me?"

"Since we found my mother's remains," she repeated.

"You knew ... back then?"

"I was physically attracted to you since we met, but I accepted that the partnership had deeper implications – well I did when you came back into my life a year later bound and determined to get my help."

"Yet you said nothing – all this time – you said nothing. More than that you flat out denied it to me and anyone who asked."

"As I have explained -."

"Yeah, Yeah ... ephemeral, fleeting, transitory, end of partnership - I heard you."

"Booth, our partnership means more to me than sex."

"And I have told you ... sex is not love." He studied her for a moment. "So why tell me now?"

"I have come to realize that I could lose you entirely regardless. These past fifteen months have been the worst of my adult life."

"Is that why you continued to write to me?" He gestured over to the journal.

"Yes."

He studied her for a long moment. There was so much he needed to make amends for, so much he wanted to share with her, so much he wanted from her. "I'm sorry, Bones."

"I am as well." She squeezed his hand. "How are you?"

He knew it wasn't just a casual question. He knew that she was asking about the stuff he refused to talk to her. "I'm Ok. I'm actually sleeping at night – for at least a few hours."

"Sweets has helped you?"

"No, not so much. He means well, but you know me Bones, I don't talk about stuff … not like that, not with the kid."

She pulled her hand from his. "I imagine that Elizabeth was a comfort. It will be difficult to lose that."

"Yes and no," he commented. One more thing to feel guilty about. "She was more of a distraction; someone to take my mind elsewhere. You are an anthropologist; you know that you can't move forward without looking back."

"You would not have entered into an engagement if she was just a distraction."

"No," he admitted. He didn't want to hurt Bones, and he knew that whatever he said would and she would never show it. "Elizabeth is an amazing, loving, sweet woman - in spite of your last encounter. I really thought I could make a life with her - to go for a different outcome. I was wrong – again. She deserved better than someone like me."

"She couldn't have done better," Brennan commented checking her voice to keep it even and calm.

"She deserved someone who was in love with her – body and soul." He reached over and took her hand again. "As we all do." Brennan looked down at their hand entwined. "Working this case felt good," he said drawing her back in. "It felt good to be doing something proactive and meaningful. It was very therapeutic."

"So you have gotten your faith back?"

He smiled. "Getting there. But there is more to life than work ... at least I want there to be. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"And you are on board with that?"

"I am."

Booth's phone rang. He hated the interruption. "Booth," he barked into the phone when he saw the caller ID. "Yeah … alright … on our way." He snapped his phone shut. "They just found Edwards in his cell … he was murdered." He stood up.

"Who would murder him? Everyone is dead."

"That is for us to figure out." He put his hand out to her. "Coming?"

She took his hand and stood up. "So we are back?" she smiled.

His expression became very serious. "Yeah, Bones, we're back … but … not the way we were. We can't go back, at least not completely."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means that I have loved you for a very long time and I want more than just our partnership. I'm not saying it has to be today or right now or even next week. But I want to start moving in a different direction."

"Booth," she warned.

"We are special, Bones – you and me – and what works and doesn't work for other people, hell what has worked and didn't work for each of us in the past doesn't mean a thing. We are different. We are special – what we have is special. I didn't understand that and I nearly destroyed us. I won't make that same mistake again. The fact alone that we are standing here today admitting love for each other – you do still love me, right?" She nodded. "The fact that we can say that to each other after all this time, after all that has happened means to me that we are anything but ephemeral, transitory or … or whatever … and we are so much more than partners. Sometimes you just have to accept reality, Bones."

"OK," she said evenly.

"OK?"

"Yes, I accept your hypothesis."

"Why?" He was a little confused.

"Booth, you have always been better at reading people, understanding motivations and comprehending relationships than I have – so on this matter I will defer to you – your expertise." She stepped away from him to head to her bedroom to get dressed.

He caught her hand preventing her from leaving. "My expertise?" He still wasn't convinced.

"Why are you arguing with me, you won this debate?" She pulled her hand away but didn't step back.

"Cause it feels like a trick." He stepped closer to her.

"Why would I want to trick you?" She leaned toward him bringing her lips dangerously close to his.

"I don't know; why would you?"

"Think of it as a win-win."

He considered for a moment. "Nah … I don't think so."

"What possible other motive could I have?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"If I accept your hypothesis we can continue to work together and …"

"And?"

"We can test your physics theory."

He puzzled. "My physics theory?"

"Two individuals becoming one during the act of making love."

A slow grin spread across his face. "Ah yes … that one … one of my favorite theories – to test."

"Only time will tell if your 'we are special' hypothesis is valid … but after my experience in Maluku, I am willing to grant that there are individuals for which the rules, the norms, the standards do not apply."

"Maluku?" He glanced toward the table where her journal was. "I guess I really did miss something, didn't I?"

"More than you know," she grinned teasingly at him. She leaned in slightly and then stepped back.

He again grasped her arm preventing her from leaving. He combed her hair back away from her face and studied her eyes. He leaned in slowly and let his lips lightly brush hers. She did not resist or pull away. He drew her completely to him, enfolding her in his arms and kissed her – deeply, profoundly, overpoweringly – as he had fantasized about many times. She was completely overwhelmed.

"Wow," they each said together.

"That is a hell of a start," she said. "But we have a murder to solve."

He groaned. "Yes, yes we do."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

_**Long moments passed. Lister had covered Reichs body with his own as a shield, but there was no explosion. He waited. Waited longer. The sound of sirens grew louder. He heard the door being broken down. The scuffle of boots. The door to the closet was yanked open. An officer dressed in full tactical gear ordered him to stand up with his hands in the air.**_

_**"Lister," he shouted. "Special Agent Andy Lister ... there is a bomb." **_

_**"BOMB ... everyone out," the officer shouted yanking Lister out by the arm. He grabbed the gurney holding Reichs and pushed them out of the room.**_

_**Once outside, Lister took over. "We need paramedics here right now!"**_

_**"We are on it agent," said another officer. "Tell us about the bomb."**_

_**"On the table. It should have gone off by now. Where the hell are the EMTs?"**_

_**"Calm down Agent. Where is Salt?"**_

_**"I don't know." EMTs arrived and started working on Reichs immediately. Two more wanted Lister to sit down so they could check him out.**_

_**"All clear," called an officer in the door way. "No Bomb. Repeat ... no bomb." He held up a clock radio made to look like a bomb.**_

_**Lister shook his head. It was a fake. Salt was playing with them. He had won again. **_

_**"Salt!" another officer shouted from a van in the parking lot. "Salt is in the van." He reached out to open the door.**_

_**"NO!" Lister shouted.**_

_**The officer didn't hear him. The seconds after the door was open there was an explosion. Everyone was thrown back. Lister crawled over to where Reichs had landed. "Kathy," he called to her. "Kathy ... Reichs! Damn it ... Reichs!" He patted her face to get her to wake up.**_

_**"Here," she groaned. "What the hell?"**_

_**"He blew himself up ... probably hoping to take all of us with him."**_

_**"Lister," she whispered hoarsely. "I quit."**_

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

A/N: Well I could leave it there ... or I could give you a very fluffy, very fun, very sexy epilogue as your reward for all this angst. Your choice. If we stop now, thanks for playing along. Here's to S6!


	15. Chapter 15

No Bride for Booth

By LizD

Written May 2010 -July 2010

Chapter 15

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Booth opened the door for Brennan and waited as she slipped into the SUV. Brennan, normally a very agile woman needed to use him to steady her ascent into the vehicle. She put her hand on his shoulder and slid it down to his upper arm and squeezed feeling his bicep. "Hmm ... Thank you," she sighed with a slight smile. It was an enigmatic smile, one that she had been showing him all night long. During the interviews with the guards on duty, the medical examiner and the other inmates, Brennan barely said a word. She didn't even catch the ME on a clear violation and didn't demand that the body be sent to the Jeffersonian until Booth suggested it. She wasn't paying attention, she wasn't making notes; but she maintained a steady gaze on Booth. Maybe she was jet lagged. Maybe she was exhausted. Maybe she just couldn't grasp the nuances of the case. But every time he looked over at her she was looking at him with that same smile.

He had had enough. "OK, Bones, what's going on?" he asked climbing into the driver's seat.

"Going on?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you know something that I don't know."

He smiled broadened slightly. "I find that I am distracted by you … physically."

"You what?"

"I understand now why it would not be good practice for people who are sexually active to work together." She looked away. "I can see that I would miss quite a few clues that need to be ascertained during an investigation."

"Wait … wait … what are you saying?"

"I am saying that I can't help but notice ... well you. Your scent. They way you move. How the muscles in your upper body contract when you are being lied to, or how often you purse your lips as a method of eliciting more information from an interviewee, or how the timbre of your voice lowers when trying to intimidate." Booth was floored. "It is very arousing, intoxicating actually – at the very least it is distracting." She scanned him up and down again. "Very distracting."

"Wow … way to do a 180 there, Bones." He laughed nervously. "Whiplash anyone?" He stole another glance at her and she was all but eating him with her eyes. "Are you flirting with me?"

"I don't flirt," she stated flatly as she licked her lips.

"Of course you don't."

"Flirting implies teasing and no follow through," she explained. "I have great follow through."

'I'll just bet you do,' he thought. He stole several more glances in her direction. "So … you were distracted and that is why you didn't add anything to the interrogations."

"The third guard was lying," she stated looking back out the windshield. "And the ME is … as you would say … IN ON IT."

"You think Hawkins was lying."

"His name was Dawkins, Jonas Harold Dawkins … and yes, he was lying."

So she was paying attention. "How do you know that?"

"You told me … well more precisely your body told me."

"And how did I ... my body know?"

"I suspected you picked up on his physical cues - pupil dilation, tone of voice, increased heart rate and you reacted. I hope one day to be that in tune with a stranger, but for now I will settle with knowing you." She scanned him again. "You take excellent care of yourself physically and physical therapy has increased your range of motion. You have amazing control over your lower body. I expect that you are very flexible for a man with your muscle mass."

"Bones, how is this helpful to the case?" He squirmed.

"I am sorry … my mind is … elsewhere," she looked away.

He was getting a little embarrassed. "As much as I enjoy you being _**distracted**_ by me … physically … we do have a murder to solve."

"That won't be solved tonight," she stated turning back to take in his form again.

"What's your point?"

"I find that I want to indulge this … distraction." She bit her lips hungrily.

"Are you undressing me with your eyes?" he asked trying to feign some bravado.

"Way past that, Booth … I am down past the muscles into your skeletal structure. You have some great bones, Booth."

"I can see pillow talk with you is gonna be ... anatomically correct." She was still studying him. "Can I have my skin and clothes back, please?"

She looked away. "I don't need to be looking at you to see you."

"Ok … now that is distracting .. and more than a little disturbing."

"In fact I do not want to consummate the relationship just yet."

"What? Why not?" He was affronted at first. How was it that she always got to make that decision? "Not that I asked ... I mean typically it is the guy who makes the first move."

"As an alpha male I expect that you would be more comfortable being the aggressor sexually, but from knowing you this many years, I suspect that you are not intimidated by a sexually assertive female."

"I'm not intimidated, Bones. It's just the way things are done."

"The way things are done - in your view - there are tribes in -."

"We are here, Bones ... the good old USofA. It is the way things are done here, OK?"

She continued to look out the window. "So you are not distracted by the prospect that we will be having intercourse in the future - the very near future?"

"JEEZ, Bones ... Ok ... Stop … this is a work zone, OK? ... You do not talk sex at work."

"We are in the car," she stated.

"This is an FBI vehicle – hence an FBI Office. It's work ... you don't talk sex at work ... OK? It's a rule." He shot her a look. "OK ... no sex talk in the vehicle."

"Then we should take my car." He rolled his eyes. "I'll let you drive," she offered. She turned toward him and leaned over a bit. "What other rules do you have that I should know about?" she asked seductively. She started to reach over to touch his thigh but he blocked it.

"Ok ... none of that either."

"What?"

"No touching, no talking, no flirting … not at work … not in the car."

"I don't flirt, Booth." She turned back to look out the window.

"You are doing a great ... well for you a great imitation of it right now." He squirmed in his seat. "I thought you were better at _**compartmentalizing**_."

"Just checking the boundaries of this new relationship." Booth couldn't help but smile. She was so unlike any other woman.

"Distracted, huh?"

"It is your fault," she declared. "You shouldn't have kissed me like you did."

"What was wrong with how I kissed you?"

"It was seductive ... it was foreplay ... you shouldn't kiss me like that if you weren't planning on following through," she informed him. "That is flirting."

"I'll take that under advisement," he said.

"I enjoyed kissing you," she stated. "But it got me thinking about -."

"HEY ... what did I just say? What are the rules?"

"You didn't?"

"Didn't what?"

"Enjoy kissing me."

"Of course I did ... but I can't think about it right now ... we're working."

"We aren't working. We're driving."

"Well one of us needs to stay on task here."

"Fair enough." She thought for a minute. "Since we won't be having sex tonight - does that help keep you focused?"

"What? Why not?"

"I suspect that this feeling will be temporary and I want to prolong it."

"Temporary? You are bored already?"

"Hardly ... and I have faith that our sexual encounters will be very satisfying ... but it is reasonable to believe that as time goes on when there is more familiarity the anticipation will not be as ... distracting."

"Nice, Bones? Thanks a lot. Really know how to make a guy feel wanted."

"I want to enjoy fantasizing about it a little longer."

"Fantasizing?"

"Act on the fantasy."

"Isn't that where I come in?" he grinned.

"No, Booth ... I am talking about masturb-,"

"JEEZ Bones, the rules?" He cut her off.

"It's perfectly natural, Booth. I am sure you have done it ... when you were young or while you were away? Some men do it every time they take a shower."

"We are not talking about this, Bones."

"Did you ever fantasize about me when you were-"

"OK, Bones ... stop ... just stop. You are digging into a man's private thoughts ... by definition they are private ... ok ... stay out."

"I'll admit that you were subject of my -."

"BONES, please ... would you just stop talking about ..."

"You can say the word Booth. It's normal ... natural ... in fact many couples engage in mutual -."

"HEY, Hey, Hey ... stop - OK?" He just shook his head.

"Oh right ... Catholic, you don't like talking about sex."

"Right ... 'cause I am Catholic, exactly."

"It doesn't cause blindness, you know." Booth rolled his eyes. "Your Catholic views on sex are repressive and lead to -"

"NO, no ... stop right there ... you are not dissing the Catholics, OK? Little respect."

She paused for a moment. "So you are distracted as well," she concluded.

"Where did you get that?" Of course he was, but how did she know.

"You have driven past my apartment three times now."

"Just looking for a parking spot," he lied.

"There is no reason for you to park," she said evenly. "You won't be coming up."

"What about the case?" he protested weakly. She couldn't possibly be serious about not consummating … not after that whole conversation. And yes Booth has _anticipated_ in the past, but not when he could have the real thing.

"It is after two in the morning Booth. I suspect we are both tired and won't get much work done."

He pulled in to a spot that was open in front of her building. "So you really aren't going to let me come up," he asked putting the vehicle in park and shutting off the lights. She got out of the SUV. He jumped out after her. "Wait, wait, wait ... not so fast there." He caught up to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Don't I even get a good night kiss?" She edged closer to him bringing her lips very close to his. She could feel his warm breath and his beating heart. She leaned still closer waiting for him to take the final step. He did. It left her dizzy. No one had ever left her dizzy. She nearly swooned in his arms. _That was foreplay_, he thought. "You really going to let me just drive away after that?" She didn't answer quickly. It wasn't that she was considering her answer; she just couldn't formulate the words. "You know I have no home … no place to … _anticipate_ our next encounter … and the thought of you _anticipating_ without me is … well … distracting."

Brennan recovered enough to ask. "Your apartment?"

"No," he said as he trailed kisses down her neck. "Bad juju there," he explained. "Spent the last couple of nights at Charlie's sharing the couch with two Shih Tzus and a Rottweiler named Butch."

"That must be really bad on your lower lumbar," she tucked her hands up under his shirt and raked her nails down his back.

"You have no idea," he mumbled. "Bad for the ... flexibility."

"Well, in the interest of your physical well being … I suggest you stay with me."

"Too kind, Bones." He looked back into her soft loving eyes. "What about … _anticipation_?"

"I have never been good with delayed gratification." She kissed him.

"Overrated," he mumbled and kissed her back. Of course the image of Brennan _anticipating_ would be saved for the next time Booth was _anticipating_.

"A couple of things you should consider before you join me."

"Go on," he leaned back onto the SUV, pulling her with him thinking 'this ought to be good.'

"It has been widely reported that men reach their sexual peak between the ages of 18 and 25."

"Total fallacy," Booth stated.

"And women between 35-40."

"So I am ready to be put out to pastured and Dr. Cougar here is looking for a new stud, is that right?"

"Not at all ... in my experience, my sexual partners - regardless of age or any other concrete factors - tend to mirror my ... intensity."

"Really Bones ... you really want to talk about the sexual research you have done over the years? Seriously ... write a paper, teach a class ... whatever ... you are killing the mood here."

"I have a voracious appetite, Booth." She leaned into him pressing her pelvis against his and nipping at his lower lip. Mood was back. "Couple that with the amount of time I have been celibate ... I just don't want you to be caught unawares - on our first time."

"Bones, do you talk this much during sex, or is this just your version of foreplay?"

She leaned her entire body weight again him, gave him a deep and penetrating kiss and the pushed off leaving him stunned for a moment. "You should park in the garage," she handed him her key card. "I don't expect you will be up in the morning to move your vehicle for street cleaning."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

As the light of dawn peeked in through the curtains, Booth lay on his side away facing away from her. He wasn't asleep but he wasn't entirely conscious either. He was completely relaxed and resting. He was used to losing sleep but never for such a satisfying cause.

For Brennan, the experience was beyond words. She never felt as connected to another person in her life. It was more than physically and sexually satisfying, it was emotionally ... indescribable. She didn't even try to put words to it. She would grant his physics theory in concept rather than actual fact but didn't feel she needed to vocalize the distinction.

Brennan turned toward him. The sheet was tossed low across his hip covering the top of his thigh. She could see all the injuries he had suffered: the shrapnel and bullet wounds, the burns and the scar he got playing with his brother and one that was so old it probably came from his father when he was no more than nine. Such abuse his body had taken in forty years and yet how much pleasure it was still able to give and receive. She wanted to touch him, too take those scars away - at least the memory of them - but she didn't want to disturb him. What an amazing man. After all he had been through in life; a lesser man would have given up. A lesser man would have turned dark and cynical. Booth did have his cynical side - but no one would ever accuse him of giving up.

She felt his breathing quicken, his heart rate increase. His temperature was rising. He was dreaming - rather reliving that nightmare. She moved closer to him. He startled awake and was about to get up, but her hand was on him. Her arms wrapped around him and she pulled him back against her. "It's OK," she said softly. "It's OK." Normally when he awoke from that memory he didn't want to be touched; he couldn't be comforted. In Brennan's arms he allowed himself to slowly come back to present. She gently ran her fingertips over his back finding each of the scars and placing a soft kiss on them. The burn scar on his back, hip and thigh bled into the brand Booth suffered while being tortured by Gallagher. The whole area required a lot of attention.

In his mind, his scars were ugly reminders of all the bad things that had happened to him and that he had done in his life. He didn't wear them like badges of courage, rather they were humbling reminders that he needed to be a better man. He never liked to give them attention or have anyone else notice them. But Brennan was different. It was as if she were reading the story of his life and he found that he wanted her to know - know everything there was to know about him, every horrific detail. He would have to tell her about the ones that didn't leave a mark on his body, but they had time. They had lots of time.

She rolled him over onto his back and continued her attentions to the scars on his chest. The bullet wound on the right side of his chest gave her pause. He had taken a bullet for her. "I love you," she said knowing that it wasn't enough.

He tilted her face toward his. She was so much more than beautiful; she was his and more importantly he was hers. "I love you," he returned before pulling her in for a morning kiss. His life was changing, he could feel it. He fell asleep sated and happy, woke from a nightmare into the sweetest dream he could imagine. "I love you," he said again. He rolled her over so he could prove it to her. The night before had been passionate, intense, hungry and wild. He has suspected how physical she would be, but he hadn't known how much she would elicit from him. But morning love was about adoration, appreciation and love. Making love would be slow and sensual. Morning love was the time when he would be in control and truly make her understand that depth of his feelings.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

He found her on the balcony looking out over the courtyard. Lots of people scurrying about their daily lives as if nothing had changed. As if that day were just another day not the start of a whole new life. She pitied them their ignorance. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her protectively to his chest. "Morning," he said huskily into her ear.

"Yes it is ... a fantastic morning at that." She leaned back into him.

"You OK?" he asked tentatively. "Been awfully quiet."

"I'm great ... speechless." She thought he would appreciate that.

He liked thinking that he could leave her speechless. "Not distracted anymore?"

She turned in his arms so she could look at him. "Do you want to know what I have discovered?"

"Everything," he kissed her lightly.

"Having intimate knowledge of a subject is much more distracting than ..."

"Anticipating," he prompted. "The more you know, the more you want to know?"

"Exactly." She brushed his lips lightly with hers. "What happens now?"

"You are asking me?"

"You have more experience with this than I do."

"Never experienced anything like this, Bones. There is no one like you ... this is all new to me."

"Then we will find our own way." She hugged him tightly. "Will you really give up your apartment?"

"Yeah ... don't like the neighborhood."

"Do you like this neighborhood?"

"I like the neighbors," he stole a quick kiss from her.

"There is plenty of room here."

"An intriguing offer, Bones ... but I will still need a different address."

"Isn't that what Post Office boxes are for?"

He grinned. "You are a genius."

"And work?"

"Don't ask, don't tell." He said like it was reasonable. "We are special, Bones - we can have whatever we want."

"I find I do not want outside intrusion just yet."

"We have lost so much time," he said guiltily. "That is my fault. I'm sorry."

"Booth -."

"I'll make it up to you, Bones. If it takes the rest of my life - and I seriously hope it does - I will make it up to you."

"You have done nothing wrong," she protested.

"You are the only woman in the world that would believe that," he said. "Sending you away was wrong." There were other things that were wrong but naming them would be way too real.

She pulled away from him. "I don't want the past to intrude on our present ... not this morning."

"Bones."

"I have accepted your apology," she stepped away. "You do not need to make amends. I was not entirely guiltless."

"Bones," he followed her back into the apartment.

"Let's start from here."

"You know that we can't ... we are the sum of our experiences."

"I accept that. I agree with that. But as each new experience is added the sum is changed. We are not who we were ... we are who we are ... and we will continue to change into the future."

"That is a little profound for me at this hour and with very little sleep."

"I suspect there will be other times to relive and reexamine the past and the roles we played, but not this morning. We have a case."

"Yeah ... the case," he was disappointed that work was intruding on them too. "We need a vacation," he stated.

"A vacation?"

"Yeah ... you and me on a beach somewhere ... what do you think?"

She smiled and moved closer to him. "I like it. When?"

"As soon as we make an arrest in Edwards' murder."

"Then we better get a move on. I'll take care of finding cause of death, you find us a beach." She kissed him nearly sucking his breath away before she dashed off to the shower.

"A beach?" He smiled. "Oh yeah ... a hot beach ... tropical sun ... clear blue water."

"Chop Chop, Booth ... day light is burning." She called from the shower.

Far away from Washington.

"Come on in," she cooed. "The water is fine."

"A very secluded beach," he grinned.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

_**Agent Andy Lister emerged from the surf and ran up the beach. The late afternoon tropic sun glistened off the water dripping off his perfectly toned and tan form. His hair was longer than standard FBI issue and blonder. The wound over his heart wasn't completely healed. He slowed to a trot as he approached the prone form of his lover, equally tanned and tone. He bent over her blocking the sun and dripped warm salt water on to her sizzling legs. **_

"_**Hey!" She sat up quickly which allowed him to capture a deep kiss before she could protest, if indeed she really did want to protest. "Missed you," she moaned pulling him down onto the lounger built for two. The wound on her thigh was healing but was still an angry red under the coconut oil. **_

"_**Was only gone for ten minutes." He took a sip from some tropical concoction filled with more juice than alcohol as he settled comfortably next to her.**_

"_**Ten minutes too long." She kissed him again. **_

"_**Honeymoon?" an older woman sitting near them asked. **_

_**The lovers shared a smile, "No … just a well deserved **__**extended**__** vacation."**_

"_**I like to see young people enjoying themselves." Kathy Reichs and Andy Lister didn't feel young. They felt old, very, very old. But they also felt blessed. They had survived, survived enough to get out while the getting was good. It had been six months since they had escaped Salt's kidnapping and murder attempt. Five months since they called it quits and walked away from murder and death. Four months of floating around the Caribbean on a 60 foot Ketch without a worry in the world. "Where do you call home?" the woman asked.**_

_**They couple laughed together. "No home … no job … no obligations," Andy explained. "Off the grid!"**_

"_**We are still working that out," Kathy corrected. "For the moment, we call this little stretch of beach home … and a boat –"**_

"_**It's a ketch," Andy corrected.**_

"_**That keeps us from being too tied down."**_

"_**Very romantic," the old woman commented. The woman was about to ask another question, but Andy and Kathy had had enough of the intrusion. It wasn't that they didn't like people; they just didn't want any part of the outside world intruding on their happiness. They had finally found peace and joy in their solitude. They weren't ready to share.**_

"_**Come on, Babe," he said standing up and reaching for her hand. "We have a sunset to catch."**_

_**Kathy looked at the sky. "Another one?" she mocked. "Seems like just yesterday there was a sunset."**_

"_**Funny how it works like that." Andy wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. "It was nice talking to you," he nodded to the woman purposely not asking her name. They strolled off to catch their sunset.**_

"_**Ah true love," the woman sighed wishing that she had found a piece of it for herself.**_

_**Moments later a lanky man with a limp loped up the sand to the old woman. "Was that Andy and Kathy?" he asked brightly of the old woman. **_

"_**I didn't catch their names," she said not liking the look of the man. "Not sure if they even knew I existed," she added. "True love … so precious."**_

"_**So true," he stated. "No two people deserve to find happiness more than Andy and Kathy."**_

"_**So you know them?" she held up her hand to block the sun and get a better look at the man.**_

"_**We used to … to work together," he said cryptically. "Allow me to introduce myself, Jackson Salt." The woman took the offered hand tentatively. He felt cold, cold to the bone. "If you see them again, before I do of course, tell them you saw me, would you please?"**_

"_**They are just going up the beach to watch the sunset, I am sure you can catch them."**_

_**Salt walked behind the woman's chair. "No, I don't want to intrude. I'll let you tell them. Be more of a surprise." With lightening speed and deadly accuracy he reached down and slit the old woman's throat. "Yeah, I think you should tell them." He dropped the bloody knife in Andy's drink and strode down the beach in the opposite direction.**_

_**~!~**_

_**The couple found their perch tucked into a cove that was completely private. Andy wrapped his arms around Kathy from behind and pulled her completely against his body. He nuzzled her neck and nipped at her lobe as the sun faded away on another day in paradise. "I love you," he whispered. **_

"_**I love you." She turned to face him. "How much more of this can we take?"**_

"_**You asking if I am bored?"**_

"_**I would have thought an aimless life with nothing productive to occupy your mind would be driving you stir crazy about now."**_

"_**Aimless & unproductive? I have great aim and I can be very productive." He pulled her mouth to his and tangled his tongue with hers; he freed her of her uniform (the bikini that had become her daily wear) and laid her down to make sweet, sweet love in the final rays of the day. He was determined, nothing would interfere with their bliss not for a long time to come.**_

Angela leaned back away from her desk with a fantastic smile. "Last book, my ass," she said to herself. "Andy and Kathy have only just begun." She looked out her office window to see Brennan and Booth in a heated discussion. They were probably arguing over evidence. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but their body language was unmistakable. Brennan leaned in and placed the palm of her hand on his chest and slid it down to his waist. He would lose this argument. Booth tensed, his eyes darkened and a smile edged his lips. He took her hand and led her away. Angela wanted to tell them that there were cameras everywhere including the Egyptian storage and limbo, but she would let them find that out for themselves.

She stepped out of her office watch them exit the lab.

"Let's go, Booth." She called urgently to him.

"Right behind you," he said. "We are taking your car ... I'm driving."

Booth and Brennan had only just begun, too.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-****-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-****-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-****-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-****-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-****-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-****-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**Thanks for playing along. I hope it was worth the angst. Here's to season 6. Let's hope they don't go this dark a route but have a similar outcome.**

**- Updated 7/17/10 - IF this is a REREAD ... drop a comment to let me know what was compelling enough to read again. Working on the flip side story and need to know what was good and bad.**


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